Learning to Fall
by a.fictional.love
Summary: After her team betrays her during a mission to Saudi Arabia, Cassandra Hill knows that getting out alive is not going to be easy. But she can pretty much handle anything once she has the help of her former mentor, Ethan Hunt, and his team - including the impressive and newly acquired analyst. Brandt x OC (updated)
1. Deja Vu

**Second multi-chapter fic, first for M:I. This idea started basically as soon as I finished GP. I've only seen the first and GP, so I had to do my best with minor research into the second and third so I don't totally butcher anything. If I did, feel free to tell me, but this is the only chapter that alludes to another of the movies besides GP.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters.**

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Chapter 1 - Déjà Vu (Prologue)

"These things are ridiculous," Benji grumbled, crossing his arms and leaning against the brick wall of the narrow alley.

Carter rolled her eyes, but even standing next to him, the darkness of the late hour prevented her complaining teammate from seeing.

Brandt, on the other side of the alley, cracked a barely noticeable smile as Ethan raised his head, his jaw clenched. He opened his mouth to say something, but closed it with a sigh and continued with code entering, finger printing, and retinal scanning.

"In all fairness," Brandt said conversationally, "you're not the one with your face pressed against a manhole."

Benji held up his hands innocently. "Just saying." He would have liked to challenge Brandt, but had found after only a few missions that the agent's deadpan wit often left Benji as the butt of the joke - sometimes literally. That whole "Uranus" thing still bothered him a little.

"Good evening, Mr. Hunt," an automated female voice said from beneath the manhole. Ethan sat back on his knees, hands resting on his thighs, waiting for the next mission.

It didn't come. Each member took a step closer, looking at the sewer cover curiously.

"You have been called to headquarters," it continued. "Flight 137 from Bogota to Virginia leaves in three hours. This message will self-destruct..."

Ethan pulled himself to his feet and began walking out of the alley, eyebrows furrowed. Behind him, his three teammates followed, and even further back, there was a dull thud and the metal cover shook slightly. A glance behind showed him that smoke billowed out of the small center hole, but that could have easily been mistaken for sewer steam.

"Headquarters?" Carter asked warily to no one in particular.

After a moment of silence, Benji shrugged and Brandt replied, "Apparently." But even they were suspicious. Getting called to base could be a good thing, but chances were, it wasn't. Chances were, it was extremely bad.

Their thoughts echoed those of the team leader. Unfortunate memories from the last time he'd been called to base came back to him. He did his best to shake them off and kept strolling along the concrete, vaguely registering the direction he needed to take to reach the airport.

* * *

The team's lack of suitcases allowed them to skip over the crowded, chaotic baggage claim and continue outside, where a man wearing a suit, tie, ear piece, and sunglasses waited next to a black Escalade. Ethan sighed, Carter and Benji exchanged unimpressed glances, and Brandt mumbled, "Subtle." Nonetheless, the four filed into the conspicuous car and waited patiently until they reached Langley.

Once inside, the agent led the four to the last in a row of elevators, nodded to them as a group, and left without a word as the doors closed. Ethan ignored the buttons and bent over to let the machine test his finger prints and scan his eye. A moment later, it blinked green and beeped in approval. They watched as the metal below the last row of buttons lifted and slid down to reveal one more. Ethan pushed it without a second thought; they all knew where it led.

Brandt, Carter, and Benji exchanged sideways glances in the elevator. Ethan hadn't said anything since boarding the plane, when he had asked for the aisle seat. He had remained silent throughout the five hour trip, the twenty minutes in the car and the short walk into the CIA building. Now, he leaned against the back of the elevator, looking down, arms and ankles crossed.

"Any idea what this is about?" Benji ventured to ask. Carter didn't bother to answer, as she and Benji had spent most of the flight brainstorming. When they had asked Brandt, he had only shrugged a single shoulder, not even bothering with the effort of raising both because he was that uninterested; as an analyst, he'd learned patience. Again, he offered no thought, staring at the red digital numbers, which increased every few seconds as the elevator descended further underground, into the unknown levels of the CIA.

Benji awkwardly awaited some sort of response. Ethan appeared to not be paying attention, lost in his own world as he stared down at the white tiles in the elevator. But soon, there was a ding as they reached level 36, and the doors opened. Without hands, Ethan pushed himself from his post and exited, saying as he passed Benji, "Let's go find out."

"Sounds like a plan," Brandt said as he followed Ethan. Carter and Benji filed behind them.

The four stood right outside the closed elevator doors, taking in the desks cluttered with blacked out pages and manilla folders labeled TOP SECRET in bold red letters. There were monstrous screens spread over the walls, all displaying multiple satellite images and videos. Phones rang and tracking radars blipped; analysts, technicians, and agents talked, typed furiously on key boards, or hurried to and fro with purpose in their strides. There were some muffled bangs and yells from the weapons testing areas down a hallway to the left.

It wasn't that they were overwhelmed by the chaos before them. They had all started at different times, but this was where each of them had begun every single day of training and testing before they had become full agents. Now, though, they were uncomfortable; being inside the sub-levels of the CIA, the IMF sector, meant there was a problem.

Carter and Ethan didn't move, trying to determine where they were supposed to go. Benji and Brandt, slightly more at home, gave small nods to former technician and analyst coworkers, but also stayed out of the way.

From their right came a tall man with broad shoulders, dressed in a suit. "Agent Hunt." He greeted Ethan first.

"Director Brassel."

The relationship between the two had become strained ever since the last time Ethan had been called into the IMF headquarters. Things had eventually worked themselves out, but that didn't cover the cracks that had been made. They shook hands, and he acknowledged the other three agents, saying it was good to see them again.

Those three nodded in agreement, but it appeared as if nothing was good to the director at the moment. He kept his lips pressed together, looking as anxious as a man trained to be stoic could look. "You're probably wondering why you've been called down," he said. His voice was tired.

Benji replied casually, "Crossed my mind once or twice."

Brassel gave him a thin smile that didn't quite reach his eyes before leading them down the hall to the right. They followed its curve and reached the door at the end. It required an intricate pass code, but the lock clicked and the door opened after a moment, revealing yet another hallway. Brassel stopped at the third door on the left, entered another long pass code, and finally pushed down the handle after retinal, finger print, and voice scanning.

He beckoned for the four to follow him into his personal office. On the right wall was a blank flat screen that spread almost from corner to corner. In front of that wall was a dark wooden desk. Brassel sat in the black rolling chair and indicated for them to sit in the chairs on the other side. Carter, Ethan, and Benji hesitantly sank into the cushions, noticing there were only three seats. Brandt headed over to lean comfortably against the wall.

"Agent Brandt, can I-"

The former analyst held up a hand. "I'm more comfortable this way."

The director couldn't count the number of times Brandt had stood against the wall while he and the Secretary discussed matters. "I know you are." His smile was there, but it was weary.

"Sir, are you all right?" Brandt asked, concerned.

His laugh was humorless. "Not really." He sighed and rubbed his eyes. "This is a global issue, and now it's personal." He spun his chair around to face the screen and turned it on with a remote. A map of the earth came into view as it warmed up. Brassel zoomed in on the Middle East. "Oil."

"Ah," Benji said. "The international economy. Of course."

"What's going on?" Carter asked.

Brassel pulled a manilla folder out of a drawer. "This." He plopped the file on the desk for them to go through. Brandt removed himself from his post and came over to look at the pictures.

"Jean Laurent, Henrich Adler, Aban Nagi," he mumbled, flipping through the photos, noting the word DECEASED stamped on each in red. "These are all international tycoons."

"They're killing them and making it look like accidents. Pushed out windows, fell down stairs," Brassel explained. "It's a ring that would be independent from the main oil companies, but the goal is to exchange cheap oil under the table for automatic weapons and bombs. And this is what happens to anyone that doesn't want a part of it." He gestured to the photos spread across his desk. "They get killed because they know about it."

"Who's threatening?" Brandt asked, the analyst in him looking for a name. "Who's selling?"

Brassel zoomed out on the map. "We've hit a few red flags looking into eastern Europe, though nothing is definitive yet. Action has been limited to Saudi Arabia because of the oil. That's why we sent agents. They were going to identify, and if possible, take down who's behind it."

Benji looked away from the dead men. "What happened?"

"Forty-eight hours ago, three agents departed for Saudi Arabia. Twenty-four hours ago, one made contact with us, hastily communicating that her team had betrayed her. Soon after, we lost contact."

"They betrayed her?" Ethan asked for clarification. He'd dealt with a number of traitorous Americans throughout his career, but this was different. This was two IMF agents double-crossing not only their country, but also their partner.

Brassel heard the dangerous note in Ethan's voice. "I'm going to regret this." A few eyebrows shot up in interest. "Understand that this mission is unauthorized, and not like it's usually unauthorized." He received blank but attentive stares. "The president is currently ruling what actions should be taken."

Benji raised his hand slightly and, wondering if he'd missed something, asked, "By the time the decision is made, won't the agent be dead?"

"Probably, yes."

"Why is there a discussion?"

Brassel sighed. "All they have decided is that the mission is to identify the seller, stop him, and get the agent back. This requires the best. Which would be you."

Ethan suddenly experienced flashbacks, seeing Lindsey in his mind's eye. "Who's the agent?"

Brassel hesitated. "Before I tell you, know that if you accept, you cannot make contact with the IMF until you have carried-"

"Who is the agent?" Ethan repeated slowly, glaring dangerously at the director.

There was a pause as the two battled through a staring contest. When it was over, Brassel loosened the tie around his neck. "Cassandra Hill."

Ethan pounded his fist on the chair arm and used that momentum to raise himself. He paced back and forth; it was Lindsey all over again.

"That's why the president hasn't made a decision yet," Carter said softly. Benji understood now, too, as Brassel nodded.

Brandt easily put the pieces together, though he was unfamiliar with most of what had just happened. Obviously, Ethan was the only choice for a mission like this, and his past with whomever the agent was appeared to be quite the obstacle to pass - so much so that the president was having trouble deciding over it.

He remembered having heard the name Cassandra Hill, throughout his training and even after, both when he was in the field and when he was an analyst. The name had usually been followed by some kind of praise or admiration, even from the Secretary.

Ethan had cooled down, putting his feelings away like he did for any other mission. He saw Brandt's face, and remembered that only Carter and Benji had met Cassandra. "I trained her," he said as he sat back down.

"Your mission," the director began hesitantly, "should you choose to accept it-"

"I accept."

"Hunt, like I said, you-"

"Can't make contact with the IMF. Yeah, I got it."

Brassel looked to the rest of Ethan's team. None of them had any contradicting words - for the moment, at least. That didn't mean Ethan would hear nothing out of them when they were away from the IMF headquarters.

The director pinched the bridge of his nose; he just needed to make sure Hunt knew what he was getting himself into. "We can start you off," he said, giving them a folder. "This has the same list of suspects Cassandra and her team were given. It also has where we believe Cassandra to be. We were in contact just long enough for us to track her. We added your flight time and safe house locations. Weapons and equipment are already there, but we have some things set aside for you." He stood up as Ethan took the file and did the same.

Brassel walked them back out of his office, down the hallways, and into the room where they started. On a small table lay open brief cases filled with gadgets, including a tranquilizer hair pin, a set of bugs and trackers, and a pair of climbing gloves Ethan remembered all too well.

"I'm sorry this is the only help we can give you," Brassel said as each member of the team grabbed a case. "But if anyone finds out and word gets to the President, it'll be all of our asses." He stood before them as they entered the elevator. "You're on your own now," he continued, and just before the doors closed, he added, "Good luck."

"All on our own now," Benji repeated as they rose to ground level, thinking of ways he'd like to tell Ethan off when he got the chance.

Brandt chuckled. "Not like that's ever happened before."

Ethan didn't grin. Instead, he spoke very quietly, his voice low and dangerous. "We take this guy down," he said, "but Cass is the main priority. Understand?" No one argued; no one disputed; no one even spoke. They only nodded.

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**Good start? Review and let me know what you think!**


	2. Head Under Water

**Clarification: the story will from now on be in first person. I mentioned that the last chapter was a prologue, but just in case anyone missed that and got confused...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters.**

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Chapter 2: Head Under Water

I slowly regained consciousness and looked around. "Damn," I mumbled through the cloth in my mouth.

I was still in the tent, gagged and sitting on the sand on my knees, which had long fallen asleep. Both my hands and ankles were tied to the pole in the center of the tent. I had stopped trying to pull and twist my way out of the bonds, but my wrists still stung, and probably were still bleeding too.

Again, though with renewed dejection, I regained my bearings. I assumed from the unbearable heat that I was still somewhere in the deserts of Saudi Arabia. Even being in the tent, out of the sun, didn't help; it was so stuffy, and I was having trouble breathing.

Then again, I'd had trouble breathing the three other times I had woken up. But this time was the hardest. Maybe because it was midday? I didn't know. I had no way to check my watch.

This time was the hardest to focus, too. When Reynolds and Baker had first dumped me in this tent after knocking me out for the jeep ride through the desert, there had only been one tent flap. Now there were two. In fact, there were two of almost everything in the tent. I looked down, noticing how I had four thighs, then three, then two, then four again.

I couldn't focus and I couldn't breathe. I was exhausted and lethargic; my lips, tongue, and throat were dry, but I could feel the sweat on my body. I was losing water, and in all the time I'd been here, I hadn't been offered anything to drink.

Dehydration was kicking in. I would pass out again soon. I guessed the three day rule had exceptions, like being stuck in the blazing hot desert. Not that it really mattered. What was the difference between dying today and dying tomorrow? Waking up to this lovely sight again? Maybe have a chance to go down swinging if Reynolds or Baker decided to pay a visit? I would love to give them a piece of my mind, but being bound and gagged limited my movements, even if I was active enough to be able to actually do something. I didn't even have enough water in me to spit at their feet.

No, better to go fast. Dehydration sucks.

I let my chin touch my chest. My neck was killing me, but that was the best I could do, as holding it up took too much effort. My eyes closed. At least there wasn't double vision in darkness.

A few seconds later - or maybe it was hours, I couldn't tell - there were muffled voices, sounds of a minor scuffle, and a few dull thuds.

The tent flap flew open and three fuzzy figures entered. No, wait, now there were two. They were dressed in the long, light clothes of the natives, with their heads covered. Underneath, though, I could see a bit of cargo pants and light tan combat boots.

One man threw himself to his knees and lowered the cloth over his head.

Ethan.

He crawled behind me with either one or two knives, and I soon vaguely registered that my limbs were free from restriction. I realized that I was starting to tip over, but I couldn't hold myself up. Ethan caught my arm and pulled me back to my sitting position. I couldn't feel my legs.

"Cass," he breathed, undoing my gag. The second man remained at the tent flap, a gun in his hand .

"You're late," I muttered incoherently.

He held my face in his hands, but this did nothing to steady my vision. "Cass! Talk to me!" I could tell I was scaring him. I must have looked insane with my eyes rolling around and my words jumbled. "Did they hurt you? Drug you?"

The second man came over and lowered his hood as well. I didn't recognize him, but I couldn't focus on his face. Only his eyes. They were so blue, like water. "Ethan, she's dehydrated. We need to get her out of here."

Strangely, his deep voice suddenly came from a distance, echoing around me. I wanted to thank him, for seeing the obvious that Ethan had overlooked, but I couldn't form words.

"Right," Ethan said. His voice was different now too. It sounded like he was trying to talk to me from under water.

Water. Water was good. Water was exactly what I needed. I blinked again, and suddenly, water was right there, all around me. That hadn't been there before. All I had to do was fall over, and I'd been waiting to be able to do that for hours.

"Cass? Cass!"

Hands grabbed me, trying to pull me back, but I had already gone under.

* * *

Comfy. I was comfortable. Was that right? I could feel my legs again. Maybe this was what it was like to be dead. Well, it sure had taken long enough.

I remembered Ethan - though that may have been a mirage - right before the blackness. And that other man, the one I didn't know. Hallucination or not, he hadn't been bad as far as last sights go. Not at all. If that was my delusional state, I could conjure up a nice image. I laughed quietly, and then surprised myself as it turned into a coughing fit. Hands helped me pull myself into to a seated position.

It ached to cough, and I felt like I was breathing in shards of glass every time I gasped for air. I kept my eyes squeezed shut, but by the time I settled down, they were watering. I opened them, and there was Ethan, looking at me, eyes full of concern. To my left, with the same worried countenances, were Jane and Benji.

I was in a bed, and they had chairs placed all around me. My eyes roamed to take in my surroundings, and I caught sight of the doorway.

There he was, casually leaning against the frame. The second man from the tent.

Apparently, I wasn't dead.

"You okay?"

I turned my attention back to Ethan. "Never better," I said, but it came out harsh and scratchy. I cleared my throat, and immediately found that was a stupid idea. I rubbed it with my hand, but that didn't do any good.

"Here." I looked up into those blue eyes, my mouth parted slightly. He was holding out a bottle of water.

I accepted it gratefully. "Thanks," I whispered, because that was all I could manage. He nodded, a single corner of his mouth turning up just enough to be noticeable, and retreated to the doorway as I drank.

"How do you feel, Love?" I smiled at Benji as he put a hand on my ankle. I'd missed my favorite Englishman.

I swished water around in my mouth and swallowed. "Like I'll never get the taste of sand out of my mouth," I said, quiet and rueful. He grinned, glad to see me back.

"How are your wrists?" the man asked from the doorway. He seemed genuinely interested. I looked down at my hands and found both wrists bandaged. I remembered trying to wriggle from the bonds.

"They sting a little," I replied honestly. I didn't really look forward to undoing them, and could imagine the half-healed cuts.

"Cass," Ethan said, "this is Agent William Brandt, former analyst. He joined the team during Ghost Protocol."

Brandt raised his hand in a wave before returning to crossing his arms in his lazy position against the door frame, his biceps flexing. I awkwardly held up my hand in acknowledgement before asking, "How long was I out?"

"About fifteen hours," Jane answered. "You were in pretty bad shape."

I laughed a little. "Yeah," I said, remembering my double vision. I looked to Ethan, and chanced a quick glance up at Brandt too. "Thanks for getting me out of there."

"What happened, anyway?" Benji asked.

I wanted to smile at his nosiness, but I couldn't. "During Ghost Protocol, my team, Reynolds and Baker, and I were in Greece. We heard what happened, and we spread out." I took another sip of water. "When the IMF was reinstated, everything seemed to return to normal. We went out on a few more missions, and then there was this one, and there was something...off about them." Gently and absentmindedly, I rubbed one of my injured wrists, annoyed by my own stupidity; I should have known. "We separated three days ago, narrowing down suspects, but then I heard them talking when I got back to the safe house. They shouldn't have been back yet.

"I grabbed my phone and called headquarters. I stayed on the line while they tracked me, but Reynolds and Baker must have heard. They took off after me before I'd reached the stairwell." I remembered, wishing things had gone differently. "If I'd been able to make it out of the building, I could have gotten down one of the alleys, but they boxed me in. They took my gun and my knife, shoved me in the back of a car, and took me on a lovely little joy ride through the desert to that damn tent."

Ethan's face displayed no emotion. "Why? Why would they do that?"

I shook my head, not really sure. "During Ghost Protocol, they must have been offered something. When they were tying me up, Reynolds said, 'Sorry. They pay more.' "

I heard a scoff and looked up to see Brandt shaking his head. He wasn't the only one; they all wore similar disgusted expressions. "Money," he mumbled.

Jane agreed with, "Shallow dirtbags."

"How far did you get in identifying the target?" Ethan asked, not joining in the name-calling, but looking like he may have been thinking a few nasty things.

I shrugged. "We were working on it, but Reynolds and Baker could have given me fake alibis. They were working on proving it was Wilson Mathers, but it's probably not him."

Everyone looked to Brandt now. He was obviously used to this, as he spoke up without missing a beat, "He's an Englishman, heavily involved in international oil," he said. "Went to Oxford, is friendly with the royals, has buckets of money, but he donates most to humanitarian purposes and to his own organizations for endangered species and the environment."

I nodded. "That's what I said, but they were adamant about finding something on him."

"So, back to the starting line?" Benji asked.

"My file is still at the safe house," I said. "Do you guys have one?"

Ethan nodded. "It's downstairs. We were waiting for you to wake up before we looked into it. We'll head down and take a look."

I nodded and scooted myself to the edge of the bed, realizing I was still in the exact clothing I had been wearing the day they attacked me. They must have smelled awful, and I probably smelled worse. "Let me take a shower first," I said, wrinkling my nose at the thought of my own stench. "And brush my teeth."

This earned me a few smiles. "I'll get some spare clothes for you," Jane said.

While she was out, I placed my feet gently on the ground, not very confident in my legs. Carefully, I eased myself off the bed and stood, a little shaky. My legs managed to hold up fine, but a wave of dizziness nearly did me in. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw both Benji and Brandt move in, but Ethan was right there with a hand under my elbow.

He kept his hand there while I regained my bearings. "You good?" he asked. I nodded, but he didn't let me stand on my own until he saw the look in my eyes. By the time Jane returned and handed me cargo pants, a t-shirt, some underwear, and a few toiletries, all three men had left and I, though a little light-headed due to my empty stomach, was silently rejoicing as I walked to the shower.

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**Check out my profile if you want to know who I imagine to play Cass. I won't mention anything here, just in case anyone wants to create their own mental images.**


	3. Square One

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters.**

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Chapter 3: Square One

It was just regular bar soap and shampoo, and the water honestly smelled a little off, but it was heaven as I rinsed layers of sand off of my body. I washed my hair twice and scrubbed my skin until it was red, making a mental note to change the sheets on the bed.

The entire bathroom was tiny and of an uncomfortable design, but I didn't even think about complaining. It was a safe house, not a hotel, and I'd been in bathrooms like it ever since joining the IMF. And cramped or not, it got me clean.

I wrapped a towel around myself, then used a second one to put up my hair. I squeezed an enormous blob of toothpaste on the brush and worked on getting rid of the dry, sandy feeling. I was terrified I was going to see little sand grains when I spit, but it was only the taste that was in my mouth. Still, it took about half of the travel size tube before I was satisfied.

I undid both towels, pulled on Jane's clothing, and let my hair hang down to dry. I looked at myself in the mirror, thoroughly unimpressed by what I saw: Exhaustion.

The bags under my eyes had bags, and any makeup I'd been wearing was washed away. I normally had a little natural color, but all I saw in the mirror was a pale complexion that extenuated the dark circles beneath my eyes. My hair, usually light brown, was darker because it was wet, and it made me look even more washed out. My green eyes stood out as the only piece of color on my face.

Figuring I should refrain from strenuous activity for the rest of the day - not that Ethan would let me do anything anyway - and that I would look better tomorrow, I exited the bathroom, hoping for food. I followed the sound of voices down the hallway, passing a few more bedrooms before descending a short flight of stairs.

"Hungry?" Benji asked when I walked into the kitchen. He was seated with Jane and Ethan at the cafe-sized table, his computers given their own little table behind him. Brandt was over by the sink; I gathered with interest that he preferred to lean against counters and doorways than sit, as there was one extra chair at the table.

"Yeah, I could eat," I answered, silently begging my stomach not to loudly betray me. I was ravenous; anything that didn't move away from me was fair game.

He pointed to a box of protein bars on the counter. "Dig in."

Brandt watched from his post. There was an amused expression on his face. "Really, Benji?"

"What?" he asked, clueless as to why Brandt was chuckling lightly and Ethan was rolling his eyes.

Jane rose and walked to the refrigerator. "She hasn't eaten anything in two days, and you want her to eat those?"

He looked at the box, not seeing anything wrong with it. "It has protein," he argued. "And chocolate! Who doesn't like chocolate?"

Jane pulled a carton of egg beaters from one of the shelves. "Sustenance," she said simply, turning on the stove and placing over the burner a pan she'd retrieved from a cabinet.

Benji looked to me. I took the empty seat next to him and put a consoling hand on his shoulder. "You know you're the first one I'd call if I had a computer malfunction." He didn't look amused until I added, "And I love chocolate."

Still, I would go with Jane on this one. She was a superb field agent with a noticeably badass way about her, but she and I had formed a sisterly relationship through Ethan, the kind that made me sure if the situation were reversed, I would be making her eggs too. We knew a bit more about health than Benji did anyway.

My stomach begged me to shovel food into my mouth, but I refrained, aware that all eyes flitted to me every so often, probably checking to see if I had passed out yet. Instead, I chewed and swallowed like a normal human being, one forkful at a time. "So where's the file?" I asked when I had cleared my plate, satisfied for the moment.

Brandt left the room without a word, and returned with the case file in one hand and a chair in the other. Ethan and Jane moved apart so he could fit between them, directly across from me and out of the way of Benji's computer collection, as a fifth at the circular table meant for four. He dropped the folder on top of the wood and pushed it towards me.

Glad for something to look at other than him, I flipped through, perusing the pages I'd memorized three days ago.

The last time I'd looked at this paper at my safe house, it was covered with markings: names were highlighted, circled, underlined, and crossed out. Twenty-four hours of work, gone - and it wasn't even real work. I remembered most of what was on the list, but every contribution by Reynolds or Baker was a lie. I sighed, nettled with irritation.

"What?" Ethan asked.

I stared down at the paper. "I had a feeling that something was wrong. A gut feeling."

"You know that none of this was your fault, right?" he asked, just to check.

I nodded, well aware that I had nothing to with my team's decision to betray me; I wasn't blaming myself. "I'm just annoyed that I couldn't do anything." I paused and rethought that. "Actually, I'm just pissed off about the whole thing." I heard a few laughs, and felt a bit better, but was more than ready to start to take them down.

"All right, what do you have on these guys?" Ethan began spreading papers out as I recalled facts.

I grabbed a sheet and a pen, putting an X on the numbers of the five suspects I had looked into. "I know it's not these."

"Not seventeen either," Brandt said. "His picture was one of those in the file Brassel showed us." He noticed my inquisitive look. "He was killed," he added.

"Yep, that would take him off the list," Benji said, marking the X. "What else?"

"Number eight caught my attention, but Reynolds said it wasn't him." I circled the number. "There were some red flags with his money, and the timing fits."

"Number fifteen," Benji said thoughtfully. He turned to Brandt, knowing that the analyst would be faster than checking the multiple beeping computers. "He was another one in the file, wasn't he?"

Brandt looked over at where Benji was pointing and nodded. He scratched it out with another X, and then he went back to his page. "Twenty-two has spent the last three weeks in China. Anything pop up in his bank accounts?"

Jane flipped to the last of her pages. "Twenty-two...No. Nothing."

I marked the X, but then asked for the paper. "He was one of the ones Baker was trying to pin it on. He said there was some money transferring." Jane handed it to me.

Benji scoffed. "He could have at least made it a little more convincing than flat out lying."

"He did," I said bluntly. "Because what he told me matched what was in our file. They forged the documents. These are different than mine."

"Does it change anything?" Ethan asked.

"No," I said. "I'm sure of my five, and the others we just did now." I shook it off and continued narrowing down suspects.

It didn't take long for me to become extremely grateful for Benji's super computer system, but even more for this new guy, Brandt. An analyst on my team would have been helpful, though unlikely; they usually didn't make it out of headquarters for actual missions because they were never trained for field work. How had he gone from expert analyst to being on Ethan's team?

I studied him when I had the chance, occasionally glancing up when everyone else was looking down. He was familiar with every person on the list, and if I remembered correctly, his name had come up with the secretary's a time or two. But he had also been the one to go in with Ethan and get me out of the tent, and he had that funny habit of needing to be standing at all time. That was a quirk of being a field agent, always ready to be on the move. And, most noticeably, biceps - as well as all the other muscles I saw now that I had a good look - like that did not come from sitting at a desk all day.

We started working at mid-afternoon, and the sun had long since set way after my condition began to catch up to me. "No, I'm fine," I lied when they asked me if I wanted to stop. I kept my head down so they wouldn't see me blinking, trying to moisturize my dry eyes. "We're almost done anyway."

They really couldn't argue with that logic as at that point, between reasoning, Benji's computers, and Brandt's analyst knowledge, we had six suspects left. Still, I could feel their eyes on me, and Benji, of course, made a comment.

"Suit yourself, Love, but if you pass out, we're not carrying you up the stairs again."

"Benji, it wasn't even you the first time," Ethan grumbled.

I began to wonder, my mind easily losing focus and drifting, who had been the one to bring me up. Ethan was no weakling, but Brandt was a few inches taller, so he may have carried me.

About twenty minutes later, we had successfully managed to narrow it down to four people. Benji requested we stop for the night, as his computers were running hot.

Ethan looked to me, and I nodded my okay, ready to collapse. The sound of chairs scooting across the floor filled the kitchen as everyone rose. "We'll finish up tomorrow," Ethan said. Again, I nodded. "You can just take the room you were in before."

I nodded a third time and made my way up the stairs with everyone else, quietly telling them goodnight as I entered the bathroom, which they let me have first. Not wanting to take too long, I quickly washed up and was out barely five minutes later. Jane walked in after I was done, handing me shorts and a tank-top to sleep in as I walked out.

"I really need to get my own clothes," I said ruefully.

"Actually, I packed a whole extra bag for this very reason," she replied. "I just put it in your room. It has some makeup, too, if you want," she added with a grin.

I smiled back. "Your subtle way of telling me that I look like crap."

"Your words, not mine," she told me as she closed the bathroom door.

I trudged into my room and changed. Only as I slid under the covers did I remember my self-reminder to change the sheets. I gave a brief thought to my hygiene predicament before rolling out of bed and checking the clock. It was almost midnight. I readjusted the bed and flopped myself back on it.

I slept on top of the covers.

* * *

**Yes, a lazy moment for Cass :) As always, review!**


	4. Then There Were Three

**Thanks to anyone who has decided this is worth following or reviewing!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters.**

* * *

Chapter 4: Then There Were Three

I rolled over onto my back and stretched while lying down, raising my arms above my head and pointing my toes. Rolling over again, this time onto my stomach, I looked at the clock. My jaw dropped.

It was just past ten.

For some reason, my heart raced. There was something that made oversleeping feel wrong. I scrambled out of bed, grabbing my toiletries in my dash to the bathroom. All the other doors in the hallway were cracked open; everyone else was up.

I brushed my teeth like someone was paying me to go fast. I never slept until ten. I couldn't even remember the last time I'd slept past eight. Work meant rising early. Even in the slight chance that I had a day off, I kept the habit.

I washed my face, patted it dry with the towel, and studied my reflection. Tilting my head to the left, I came to the conclusion that it was better than it had been yesterday. There was color in my face again, and in my lips. The dark circles were less noticeable too, but that was probably because I'd slept for over ten hours. And with a little makeup, those would be gone.

Darting back to my room, I searched for the makeup in the bag Jane had given me. What I pulled out was a huge case filled with every kind of makeup under the sun. I picked out the basics - foundation, brown eye shadow, mascara, and light pink lip gloss - but I took the time to behold the organized kit: foundation primer, tinted moisturizer, blush, bronzer, coverup, highlight, eyeliner, more eyeshadow, fake eyelashes, and an entire row of lipstick and glosses from light purple to blood red. I picked up the moisturizer, not surprised that it - and everything else - was a match for my coloring.

Back in the bathroom after getting changed, I applied the makeup lightly, just enough to help me look like I hadn't been held hostage, starved, and dehydrated in a tent in the middle of the desert recently. There was still something off as I looked at myself in the mirror; the brown eyeshadow and mascara brought out my eyes, but they were still tired, and the faintest tinges of being bloodshot were visible if I looked closely. I stepped back, knowing there was nothing I could do about that. I returned the cosmetics to their designated spots and continued down the stairs.

From the bottom step, I could see that Benji had moved his technology arsenal from the kitchen to the dining room table, where he could spread out his computers and take up all the available outlets, not needing to share table space with the case file or plugs with kitchen appliances. Where he got the rolling chair, I don't know, but he moved across the hardwood from laptop to screen and back again, totally immersed and ignorant of the scratches he was probably putting in the floor.

He didn't even notice me as I passed the doorway while heading to the kitchen. At the table, flipping through the case file again, were Ethan and Jane. It wasn't until I was fully in the room that I saw Brandt. No surprise, he was at the counter. Granted, he was sitting on it, but I would have bet that he'd begun by standing and had gotten tired of it. He was looking through a copy of the folder as well.

"Good morning," Jane greeted, the first to see me. She teased, "Sleep well?"

I'm sure I blushed a little as I scanned the room for some type of food. "Maybe a little too well."

"Cass, if you need to sleep, sleep," Ethan told me. He adopted his second brotherly tone. He used one to tell me that I needed to push myself harder; this one was for when I was pushing myself too hard.

I found a box of cereal on top of the refrigerator and began hunting around for a bowl. "Just feels weird." While I had my head in one cabinet, the door to another closed. I looked to my right, where the sound had come from. Brandt was holding out a bowl for me. "Thanks."

"No problem," he said. I poured my breakfast out and began to eat it dry, not planning on using what little milk we had - coffee was more important. "And just for the record," he added, "if we were normal people, you'd be in the hospital right now."

I paused in mid-chew, realizing he was right. I hadn't even thought about that, and not just because going to a foreign hospital was out of the question. I supposed I was just so used to running myself into the ground that it seemed natural to keep moving. But this hadn't been a regular mission with a few cuts and bruises.

"I got it!" Benji shouted, interrupting my thought process. His chair rolled loudly across the floor before sliding to a stop. "Good morning, Love," he said when jogged into the kitchen and he saw me. He then repeated, "I got it!"

"Got what?" I looked around at everyone else, pretty sure I was the only one confused - just another reason why I don't normally sleep late.

"We started on the suspects before you came down," Ethan explained. "Benji was looking into nineteen."

"I traced his money," Benji stated proudly. "Which, by the way, is unbelievably secure. There were so many firewalls, and even with all my stuff..." He shook his head, obviously impressed with himself. We gave him a moment, and he added, "He was putting money into an offshore account in the Caymans. Go figure, 'cause those really are a pain to get into, but anyway, he was using it for...erm...things that would get him into serious trouble with his wife."

Brandt hopped off the counter to stand again. "Down to three then," he said.

Benji nodded, ran back into the dining room, and grabbed a few papers, three of which were full page photos of different men. He spread them on the kitchen table for us to see and began writing on them in permanent marker. "This leaves us with number four, Leonid Bertov, number eleven, Hasan Cana, and number twenty-three, Jarad Cibulka."

"Ukranian, Serbian, Slovak. All from Eastern Europe," Brandt pointed out. "Like Brassel said."

I turned one picture to me. "I didn't look into Cana, but they gave me alibis for Bertov and Cibulka."

"What do you have on them?" Ethan asked.

Benji continued to narrate what he was writing on the pictures, and on his face was the smile of an operative with good news. "Well, as of yesterday, Cana and Cibulka are both here in Riyadh. Bertov is scheduled to arrive the day after tomorrow."

That couldn't be a coincidence. "Do you know where they're staying?" I asked.

Benji looked at me, eyebrows raised. "Did you get a concussion in that tent? Of course I do."

He sifted through some papers before reading off the one he was looking for. "Cana is in the Four Seasons, and we are now booked in the room directly below his."

"Him first?" Brandt deduced.

"He's at an all-day convention on nuclear fission," Benji explained with a wave of his hand. "He has some stocks or something. He's not a scientist." He walked back into the dining room. "By the way, check-in is in an hour."

Jane and I changed into heels and business dresses, and when we got back downstairs, the guys were already there, wearing suits and ties, though they had taken the jackets off to move more easily as Benji directed where to put his computers. Those were the only things we really needed, which was why we packed them in the briefcases and suitcases.

"All right," Benji said a few minutes later, satisfied that he had everything he needed. Brandt and Ethan shrugged on their jackets. "I think that should do it."

* * *

I stared up at the enormous hotel, fairly impressed, as it towered over every other building in the rest of the city. I didn't understand the point of the U-shaped gap at the top, but I wasn't an architect. "What floor?"

"Forty-two, and he's on forty-three," Benji said as he opened the door for me. He led the way over to the check-in counter. The rest of us stood a little ways back, laden with our suitcases full of laptops and other equipment.

He returned to us and nodded to the elevator, which was big enough to fit all of us, the equipment, and, if needed, a small army. I stood between Ethan and Benji and sighed, preparing myself for the long forty-two floor ride up.

"So, Benji," Ethan said conversationally. "We have no back up."

Benji turned to look at him slowly. "Yes," he said, his voice wary. "I'm aware."

"Do you think you're going to be able to get into the server from the inside this time?"

I would have shrunk further into the wall if I could have, just to get out of the line of fire between the two. Benji was scowling at Ethan, who was grinning. "I've got it covered," Benji grumbled. "And why are you so happy? If I can't, you'd have to go out the window again."

"Because I get to do it this time," Brandt said in a way that told me he wasn't too excited about it.

"Out the window?" I asked, confused and intrigued. "Again?"

Ethan waved his hand in dismissal. "Long story," he said just as the elevator doors opened.

We turned left and walked down the hallway until Benji stopped at a door, swiped the key card, and let us into the spacious, well-furnished suite. "Nice view," Brandt mumbled as we pulled out the computers and cords and set them up according to Benji's directions.

"What's the plan?" I asked Ethan when Benji was successfully trapped behind a fortress of screens and keyboards, hacking into the hotel's security.

"Obviously, Benji stays here," he started. "Jane's going in as housekeeping, I'm stationed at the elevators, and you and Brandt are down in the lobby. You each cover an entrance."

I heard something in his voice, and stared him down. He conceded, and I saw it in his eyes: He didn't want me down in the lobby. He didn't want me doing anything.

Jane went to get changed, and I took her seat in the chair next to Ethan. "I'm okay, you know," I said lightly. I kept my voice quiet, even though Benji was engrossed in his work. Brandt had enough poise to go over to the window at the far side of the room, and if he could hear us, he didn't let on.

"I know. That's why you're on lobby detail."

I wasn't fooled. "That was Jane's idea, wasn't it?" I asked.

After a moment, he responded, "I didn't think it was a good idea to throw you in, but she said you be pissed if I didn't let you do anything."

"She was right."

"And she said that if I stuck with you, you'd feel suffocated."

I nodded once. "Again, she was right."

"Can you just take it easy for today?" he pleaded.

I put my hand on his shoulder. "Brandt could easily cover both entrances, and you know it. I'll have nothing to do. Don't worry." He raised a doubtful eyebrow, but didn't say anything else.

"I'm into the server," Benji stated. "Got the alarms, the footage, the layout...And all from right here."

"We're very proud," Brandt said, returning to the middle of the room as Jane came back. Benji handed us our ear pieces and gave Jane the bugs before sending us on our way, one at a time. First Brandt, then Ethan, then me. Only after everyone was in position and we were sure we would encounter no problems would Benji take care of the lock and let Jane into the room.

When I got down to the lobby, Brandt had already gotten comfortable in a chair by the west entrance. We didn't bother to make eye contact, but I made sure to walk past him on my way to the circle of seats on the other side. In my ear, Ethan asked if everything was clear in the reception area.

"Yup," Brandt said easily.

I stared at the doors to the east entrance as they opened. "Uh...no."

* * *

**By the way, you can google the Four Seasons in Riyadh if you want to see an image.**


	5. Then There Were Two

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters**

* * *

Chapter 5: Then There Were Two

"No?" I heard three voices repeat simultaneously. Brandt didn't say anything, but I could feel his eyes on me. When I looked, he remained seated and seemed unconcerned about the world around him. But I knew the signs: his body was noticeably more tense, and in what looked like an attempt to get more comfortable by readjusting his position in the chair, he'd angled himself towards me.

"What's going on?" Ethan asked. I had made no response, as the men who had entered the building were standing by a pillar, close enough to hear me. "Cass, talk to me." I could hear the edge in his voice and wanted to laugh; he put me on lobby detail - lousy, boring lobby detail - and something had to go wrong. "Brandt, what-"

"She's too close to talk, but she's fine," Brandt said quickly, trying to placate Ethan. He saw me subtly leaning towards the three men and added, "She's trying to listen. Quiet."

The line remained dead after his command, and I continued to flip through the pages of the magazine in my hand, my eyes glazing over the words on the page as I listened. I took a moment to focus, and realized that they weren't speaking in English, but rather what sounded like Russian. After another few seconds, I grimaced; I knew Russian, but this was some dialect I wasn't completely familiar with.

With much concentration, I did manage to catch enough to understand the nature of their visit before the conversation ended and two walked towards the elevators and the third back out of the lobby. Only two words held major importance. The first was a number: four-thousand, three-hundred, seventy-two, the room directly above ours. The second was a name: Cana.

"It was Cibulka and two other man," I explained as soon as they were out of earshot. "He left, but those two are at the elevator."

"Are you all right?" Ethan asked.

"I'm fine," I said sharply, because that was not the most important thing right now. "Benji, can you get some kind of eyes in Cana's room?"

"Probably not eyes. Why?"

"Because these guys are going up to see him."

There was some vague clicking sounds. "No, Cana's at that convention," Benji said. "He signed in this morning at ten, and he hasn't signed back out."

"Well, they're positive that he's here. They must have faked his check-in."

More clicking. "What going on, Cass?" Jane asked. She was still on the forty-third floor with Ethan, directly between staying and going, debating on whether or not to abandon the operation yet.

"Elevator doors just closed," Brandt reported. He looked down at his watch.

Benji added, "I have them on camera."

"What if we put the bug under the door?" Ethan suggested.

"Uh...never done that before."

"Worth a try," Brandt said. "You won't have time to do anything else."

Benji made a small noise, obviously not fond of the idea, and then it sounded like he was moving things around. "I don't know if the gap under the door is wide enough. It could get crushed when the door opens." That was why we kept Benji around; I wouldn't have thought of that. If Cibulka's men opened the door and found the remnants of a bug, we'd have more problems than just a lost piece of equipment. I heard him jog somewhere. "Hang on."

"Twenty seconds," Brandt informed them, checking his watch.

"That never helps," Ethan grumbled through what I assumed were gritted teeth.

A door closed in my ear. "Okay, it fits," Benji said. "Plant it and then run forward and take the left turn. Five doors down on the right is a stairwell."

Brandt and I remained in the lobby, exchanging glances. "Seven seconds," he muttered, holding his wrist up to see his watch. I continued the countdown in my head.

"Go!" Ethan commanded in a strained whisper. I heard softly thumping feet as they ran down the hall, just as I reached three. A door shut, and they began down the stairs by the time Brandt put his wrist down.

Seconds later, an odd rubbing sound reached our ears; Benji had hooked up the bug to transmit to all of our ear pieces, and this was Cibulka's men opening the door. It slammed shut, louder than I had expected, but neither Brandt nor I flinched. Instead, we listened for the start of the conversation. I hoped someone could make out the dialect better than I could.

But it didn't matter whether they could or not. While I heard differences in tone and inflection, the words were completely incoherent. I looked to Brandt, who shook his head. He couldn't make out anything either. The carpeting must have been muffling the sound and preventing the bug from picking it up.

We tried to relax, sinking back down into the cushions of our chairs. Right now, there was nothing we could do but hope Benji was getting better audio on the computers in the room. Until we knew anything, though, we had to remain here to verify when those two finally got into their car and drove away; the parking lot was out of Benji's security camera range.

Eventually, the unintelligible mumbling stopped, or became even quieter than the bug could detect, but it continued on in my mind, just as annoying as a ringing in my ears. Brandt made eye contact with me, and I subtly shrugged my shoulders. Immediately after, though, the rubbing of the bug on carpet sounded again, and the door closed shut.

"Got them in the elevator," Benji said.

I took this as invitation to speak. "Did you guys get any of that? Brandt and I couldn't make it out."

"Not really, but Benji can fix that." Ethan sighed. "Cana was definitely in that room, but I don't think he's alive."

"Are you and Jane going to check?" Brandt asked.

There came the familiar sound of footsteps going up concrete stairs. "Yeah."

"The door's unlocked now," Benji said. "And don't forget the bug."

"Got it," Jane said a moment later. I heard no sound, so I assumed Benji had disconnected that communication line from it. But I did hear the door close shut.

"He's dead," Ethan confirmed. "No signs of a struggle. Looks like for a while, though."

"So, this was just a check-up visit to make sure he was dead?" Brandt asked. He didn't get an answer, and directly after that, the elevator doors opened. "Got them in the lobby," Brandt continued.

Soon after, they were in my line of sight. "They're exiting the building now." Another moment passed as they stood, waiting for their car. "They just got into a black limousine." I watched until it pulled out of the parking lot. "They're gone."

I stood up first and approached the elevator. Brandt rose from his seat after I hit the up button and joined me. We let an elegantly dressed couple out before entering. Brandt's hand moved and the level forty-two button lit up.

"Got you in the elevator," Benji said. I rolled my eyes. "I saw that!"

Brandt asked, his voice tired but slightly amused, "Don't you have some audio clips to work on?"

"I can multitask," Benji stated simply.

"I know you can," Brandt conceded. "That patting your belly and rubbing your head thing was very impressive."

As there was a dead body in the room above ours, I was surprised by his comment, and that was probably why it was so funny. I refrained from laughing until I had taken out my ear piece. Brandt turned to me and said, "He wants you to know that he can still see you."

He was grinning, and there was a playful, mischievous glint in his bright eyes. It did something remarkable to his face. This was the first time I'd seen him with more than his eyebrow raised or the corner of his mouth titled up, and the full expression added a youthful, boyish charm to his normally passive countenance. It was a good look for him.

The elevator doors opened, and I became very conscious of the fact that I had no clue how long I'd been looking at him. "What?" I heard him say behind me, his voice maybe just a bit higher than usual, as if denying an accusation. I turned, but then saw he wasn't talking to me. I remembered that I had taken my ear piece out, so Benji was probably telling him something. As if to confirm my thoughts, just before I swiped my card to open the door, Brandt muttered through gritted teeth, "Shut up, Benji."

Once in the room, I tried to ignore the puzzling grins Benji occasionally shot my way as I joined Jane and Ethan in packing up the equipment. "I take it Benji managed to make out the conversation?" I couldn't think of another reason as to why we were packing up the computers - besides the dead body above us, of course.

Ethan nodded. "Cana refused to buy from them, so Cibulka sent two men to go kill him earlier, just like Brassel said they'd been doing. Most of it was just confirmation that he was dead, but they did mention the two men were Americans."

I tightened my jaw. "Reynolds and Baker."

"Probably. And Bertov's name popped up a few times."

I picked up the final briefcase that Ethan had just latched shut and joined the rest of the team. "I guess we can cross Cana off the list now."

"We'll go after Cibulka tomorrow," Jane said. "He mentioned going back to his hotel for dinner."

"Benji, where is he-" I paused mid-sentence. "Why are you looking at me like that?" Honestly, the smiling was weird and more than a bit creepy.

"Like what?" he asked innocently before grabbing a suitcase with each hand and leading the way out the door. Jane and Ethan didn't go into it and followed him, leaving me in the room with Brandt. He was staring at the open doorway, where Benji had just disappeared from, eyes narrowed and one brow raised in suspicion.

I walked out next and felt his presence behind me, wondering what Benji had said to him and if he was as just as confused as I was.

* * *

**I pride myself on a few things, but descriptions aren't my strong point and I'm the first to admit it. Someone please tell me if I did the amazing Jeremy Renner some justice (raise your hand if you love him too!)**


	6. More Sorry Than Safe

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters**

* * *

Chapter 6: More Sorry Than Safe

The following morning, I didn't oversleep. We were dressed and all the bags were packed with the necessary clothes and technological appliances by half past ten. But we weren't ready to leave yet.

Ethan drummed his fingers on the kitchen table. He looked down at the wood while I bit my bottom lip in anticipation.

Benji had stopped smiling at me by the time I'd woken up this morning, and the little tension that had mounted between him and Brandt had dissipated as well.

"Al Faisaliah Tower," Benji had told me.

"What?"

Jane had explained, "That's where Cibulka is staying. He does a lot of business in the restaurants there, but for now we can at least get a few bugs in his room." Then, she'd added, "Do you want to do it this time?"

And thus, here we sat, with Ethan debating on whether or not to let me put a listening device in an empty room. I really couldn't tell what he was thinking, which bothered me, because I was good at reading him. The job wasn't hard; this was novice work. But, as we'd discovered yesterday, I could encounter trouble doing something as dull as lobby detail. And, Cibulka wasn't supposed to be out of the building. He was only going to be a few floors up, dining with a business partner, or a client, or a possible next victim.

The odds were not in my favor, but Ethan knew I was itching to do something useful. Against what I knew was his better judgement, he finally sighed. "Fine." Then, he quickly raised a finger while he still had my attention. "But if I say pull out, you pull out. Understand?"

"Absolutely," I nodded, grinning.

He seemed to deflate just then, everything about him suddenly tired and forlorn. "I'm probably going to regret this."

* * *

"Wow," I said as we approached the enormous tower. It looked something like a ballpoint pen, with the writing end pointing up. "They really like glass."

"I hate glass windows," Ethan mumbled as he got out of the car. I raised my eyebrows, but let it be.

The next thirty minutes passed similarly to that of yesterday's arrival at the Four Seasons. After passing the shopping center, Benji talked to the people at the front desk, as he had been the one to rent the apartment. Then we filed into the elevator and rode it up to the twenty-sixth floor.

Using his newly received key, Benji allowed us into the apartment, which was modernly furnished, its windows completely glass. Ethan eyed them with distaste, but I couldn't help but admire the view. I preferred more natural scenery than the endless sea of buildings spread out before me, but the height was still impressive.

After changing into the housekeeping uniform that Jane had used yesterday, I stood in the middle of the sitting area with her and Brandt while Ethan explained his plan and Benji continued hacking into the server and overriding the security systems.

"We're going to try this again," he said. "Cass goes in as housekeeping, but leaves the cart outside. Brandt, on the floor with her, will take the cart and put it in the closet down at the end of the hall before returning back here. Jane and I will be at whichever restaurant Cibulka has chosen for lunch."

It seemed simple enough, so naturally I began to imagine all the ways it could go wrong.

"How's it going, Benji?" Brandt asked, unbuttoning the cuffs of his sleeves and rolling them up.

Benji held up a hand. "Just give me a few more minutes. The security system here is more complex than the Four Seasons's." He continued hurriedly, "I know what you're thinking, but no one needs to go out the window. I've got this."

In the small shoulder bag I was bringing with me, I placed the five bugs Benji had set aside. I looked in the mirror at the uniform, only feeling comfortable because right underneath I had well-fitted black pants and a black t-shirt. The uniform pants were so long that no one would notice the soft shoes I wore, and as soon as I was in the room, I could take off the ill-fitting uniform and put it in the bag.

"Okay," Benji said, "I'm in, but it's not going to be easy to hold. It's very touchy, very high security. I can only do a few things at a time, and not for very long. As soon as you're clear of that hallway, let me know so I can take it off while Cass plants the bugs in the room." He pointed to Jane and Ethan. "And while you two are in the restaurant, I may not have extra eyes."

Ethan nodded. "Just let us know."

"So where is he now?" Jane asked, grabbing her clutch.

"The Globe restaurant, on the fortieth floor," Benji replied. Then he turned to me. "His office is on the thirty-sixth, so if he makes a move towards the elevator, you need to get out of there."

I nodded my understanding. Ethan gave me a stern look that only reinforced Benji's warning, and his from earlier in the morning. He and Jane left, leaving me with Brandt and Benji.

"All right, we're here," Ethan's voice sounded in my ear a few minutes later. "We have eyes on him."

"Let's go," Brandt said. I picked myself up off the couch and followed him out the door. He took the elevator first while I walked down the hallway to a supply closet and pulled out my housekeeping cart.

As soon as I was in the elevator, Benji said, "I let go of the feed on our hallway. It's only the thirty-sixth and the Globe now." He sounded uneasy.

I couldn't see Brandt down either side of the hallway, but I also didn't see anyone else, so I didn't bother going slowly. I jogged the cart towards the room and watched as the color for the electric key pad blinked green. I wasted no time opening the door and sliding in. Out of my peripheral vision, I saw Brandt start to walk down the hallway and heard him rolling the cart away.

Immediately, I unbuttoned the blouse and stripped off the baggy black pants of the uniform and stuffed them in my bag, pulling out the bugs in exchange. "I'm clear of the hallway," Brandt said while I deposited the first of five bugs in a fake potted plant in the foyer. I heard him taking the stairs so Benji could drop the feed on both this hallway and the elevator. It ensured safety, but also meant Brandt needed to descend ten floors. At least he wasn't going up.

"How's it going, Cass?" Ethan asked.

"Okay," I said absentmindedly. It was a surprisingly big space, and I had to scout the whole thing before deciding where the best locations for the bugs would be. I walked through the kitchen and past the bathroom, thinking that those two rooms were not the ideal places to conduct business, although the vents in both were good places to put the bugs.

No, I had my sights set on the sitting room at the end of the hall. It was bigger than the one we had in our room, but with the same clear windows and long white couches. I decided it was large enough to need two bugs.

I planted the first one under the couch in the sitting area on the right side of the room, then made my way to the left, where I placed the second under a small table near the cabinet full of small glasses and foreign liquor.

I moved back into the hallway and opened the door on my left, entering into an office space similar to those used in board meetings. I crawled under the table and stuck the second to last bug in the center.

Directly across the from the meeting room, there was another door. It was locked, not with a key pad or a key card, but an actual key. I pulled from my hair the bobby pin I always wore, knowing I could do it, but also knowing that if it had been technological instead of manual, Benji would have been faster.

I had it open within ten seconds, placed my pin back in my hair, and let myself into his private office. I hurried to the desk and attempted to pull open a drawer. Like the door, it was locked, as were all the other drawers.

"Dammit."

I stopped. That was my thought, but it wasn't my voice.

"What's wrong, Benji?" Jane asked.

"I'm out of the system," he said. There were some furious typing sounds. "The firewall - Dammit! I don't think I can get back in."

I heard Ethan's voice next. "All right, just work on getting out clean." There was a pause, then, anxiously: "Cibulka's getting up. He's on the phone."

"Someone probably called him to let him know there was a breach," Brandt guessed.

Jane confirmed his thoughts. "A few other men are getting up too. They're all heading to the elevator."

"Cass, you need to get out of there now," Ethan commanded.

I sighed, frustrated that I didn't have the time to pick the locks in the desk to find what he was hiding. "Why is that guy always there when you don't need him?" I grumbled, slapping the bug under the desk and leaving.

"Go faster," Ethan nudged.

"Hang on!" I snapped, taking my bobby pin back out. "I have to lock a door." I couldn't lock it from the inside.

"Fifteen seconds," Brandt commented quietly.

I scowled as the lock clicked into place. "You know, that really doesn't help." I heard no more counting, but now I knew that I wouldn't have time to make it out, especially because Benji had no way of blocking the security cameras in the hallway. "Crap," I muttered as I bolted through the space, looking for a way out.

"No, do not say that," Ethan groaned. I knew for a fact he regretted his decision the moment he'd said, "Fine," this morning. Now, it was more than regret; it was remorse, because he was the one to give consent. I had to get out of here, just as much for his sake as for my own. A last minute thought hit me, so I ran into the bathroom and looked up at the vent.

I heard muffled voices as I stood on top of the toilet and pushed the grate open, and the lock clicked while I hoisted myself up. But by the time the door opened, the grate was closed.

* * *

**Exciting, maybe? Let me know what you think! And if anyone wants, you can google the Al Faisaliah Tower and check out what it looks like to get an idea.**


	7. Free-falling

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters**

* * *

Chapter 7: Free-falling

I started to move and a sharp screeching immediately sounded in my ear. I gasped, then threw my hand over my mouth and kept moving. It died down after a few seconds, but still crackled.

"That was a gasp," Benji said, his voice fuzzy.

Ethan interrupted him, and I head Jane's voice in there too. "Cass? Are you okay?"

I continued my crawl through the air ducts, going in what I thought was the right direction. "I'm fine, my ear piece just acted up."

"Cass!" Ethan repeated, more urgently this time. "Talk to me!"

I stopped and pushed the piece further into my ear canal, repeating very carefully, "Ethan, I'm fine."

"I can't hear her," Benji said. "We lost the connection."

"You mean he's got her?" Ethan asked, his voice deathly silent.

I pushed forward, really hoping I was heading back down to the twenty-sixth floor. I stopped at every grate I could find, looking for clues as to what floor I was on after going down slightly. Being in here must have messed something up with the ear piece, and I had no way of communicating with them.

Great. Now Ethan would storm Cibulka's office, only to find that I wasn't there.

"No, not necessarily," Brandt said. "Benji, turn on the bugs she planted. Maybe she just lost her ear piece."

I couldn't hear anything, though I assumed everyone else was listening in on Cibulka. I wasn't sure what they would hear, but it wouldn't be me.

"See?" Brandt said, his voice level and steady. "He doesn't have her."

"Then where is she?"

I kept crawling and looked at the numbers on the rooms in the hallway I was above. Thirtieth floor.

"I don't know," Benji told him. "I can't get back into the server."

Crap. That meant I was screwed if I ran into a fan.

"Ethan, you and Jane just stay in the Globe until Cibulka comes back," Brandt said. Again, I was beyond grateful for his presence. He was the reasonable one, the calm one. The analytical one. That made sense. "We need to have eyes on him until Cass gets back."

There were some mumbles of agreement.

I looked down. Twenty-eighth floor. I continued, thinking that I hadn't heard Brandt call me Cass before. A dull humming sound reached my ears and I looked forward. A fan. I turned left, hoping that didn't set me back, but eventually I found a small downward chute. Twenty-sixth floor.

I scanned the numbers on the doors as I crawled above the hallway and realized that, of course, I was on the wrong side of the circular floor. There was no direct route across, so I just had to keep going.

By the time I reached the turn closest to our door, my neck was aching. I took the chute slanted up, knowing it was the only one pointing in the right direction. Finally, directly below me was the sitting room, and there was the top of Brandt's head as he paced the floor. But that floor was a very long way down; I hadn't realized how high up the ceiling was. I turned towards the bathroom, thinking I could descend from there the same way I'd climbed up in Cibulka's bathroom.

More humming. Another fan. Dammit.

I crawled back to that grate and pulled it open, thankful now that I knew the hard part was over. I still had to get down, but at least I didn't face getting caught. "How's it going down there?"

Brandt looked up, showing me the grave expression that accompanied the steady voice. But then that smile spread over his face. "You're okay." It wasn't a question, but a pleased and relieved statement. "Benji, let Ethan and Jane know Cass is fine."

They must have taken out their ear pieces, so Benji got up off the couch and ran into my view. He sighed when he saw me and pushed the piece into his ear. "She's here, she's okay. She went through the vents," he said. "Ethan wants to know why your ear piece stopped working."

"Not sure," I said. "But I'd like to know why the ceiling is so high." It was at least a fifteen foot drop.

Brandt drew his eyebrows together curiously. "How'd you get up there in the first place?"

"Bathroom vent."

"Can you go there now?"

I shook my head. "There's a fan in the way." I looked at the space below me, as did Brandt and Benji. "Couch isn't cushiony enough to jump," I said.

Benji crossed his arms, biting his lip. "I don't have anything to bring you down. We didn't really plan on this."

"So how does this work?"

"Well," Brandt tried, "you can jump, and I can catch you."

Benji scoffed. "Where have I heard that before?"

"Shut up, Benji," Brandt said, rolling his eyes.

"You catch me?" I repeated, liking the idea more than I should have, seeing as it involved me free-falling from the ceiling. He nodded. "Okay."

"What?" Benji cried, incredulous.

"Shut up, Benji," Brandt repeated, though this time I noticed his grin.

Benji stared up at me. "But look how quick she is to trust you! How come I didn't get that?"

"Because she has arms to land in," Brandt explained. "Real life, solid, visible arms. I had a magnet." I decided not to add what I was thinking, about those arms being extremely muscled and probably beyond capable of catching me. "Ready?"

I lowered myself into the square shaped hole, pulling the vent closed with one hand while holding on with the other. I took three deep breaths while that initial jump in my chest sped up my heart rate at the thought of doing something daring. This time, though, it seemed different, as I couldn't help the smile from spreading across my face. Maybe it was because I was in no danger this time, and could revel in dropping. Somehow I doubted it.

I stopped thinking and let go.

It was a very brief fall, barely giving me time to enjoy the feeling of weightlessness. I heard a light crash as the grate closed above my head, and barely a second after that, I landed. Brandt caught me, one arm around my shoulders, one under my kneecaps. He'd barely even bent his knees to brace himself for the impact. "You okay?" He was smiling again.

"Yeah," I breathed.

Benji cleared his throat. I stretched my neck around to see his eyebrows were raised. Brandt gently dropped my legs, setting me down on the ground. "What?" I asked Benji.

He turned around and walked back to his computers. "Nothing," he replied easily just as the door opened and Ethan burst through, giving me no chance to dig further into his 'nothing,' which was most definitely not nothing.

"What the hell happened?"

I sighed, and I saw Jane, behind Ethan, do the same thing. "I got out through a vent in the bathroom. He didn't see me."

Ethan relaxed a little, but not much; his shoulders remained tense and his eyebrows stayed knit together, his forehead creased. "What happened with the ear piece?"

"As soon as I was in the vent, it started screeching in my ear. That's why I gasped," I said. "After it calmed down, it crackled, but I could make out what you guys were saying. You just couldn't hear me."

Ethan turned to Benji, seeming to be satisfied by my explanation and my safety, but still not ready to be calm yet. "Why did that happen?"

Benji shrugged. "Dunno. Could've been something with the metal air duct, could've broken." He continued taking apart his computer fortress, starting to pack things up, and added ruefully, "But I do know that I have a busted ear piece."

"Sorry about that," I said, helping him with the equipment.

He gave me that grin again, and added to the look by quickly raising and lowering his eyebrows. "Don't worry about it, Love," he said just loud enough for me to hear. "You made up for it with your entertaining little drop." He closed two briefcases and picked them up, one in each hand, and walked away.

I grabbed the third and followed the rest of them out. What was he talking about? There was nothing entertaining - or little, for that matter - about my drop. I fell, I landed. Brandt was more muscled than Benji, and they were the only two in the room, so he was the obvious choice for catching me. That was it. If Ethan had been there, he probably would have been the one to do it. It didn't mean anything.

I shook my head: Benji was so immature.

* * *

**Kind of a filler chapter, but it's actually one of my favorites. I like writing Benji as the meddling match-maker... Thoughts? Let me know!**


	8. Early Bird

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters**

* * *

Chapter 8: Early Bird and Night Owl

Six o'clock. Much better.

I rolled out of bed, refreshed and calm now that I was back to waking up at my normal time; it meant that my body had healed. It gave me the confidence to tell Ethan to relax the next time he tried to sit me out of a mission, which he would probably try to do downstairs in the kitchen within the next few hours, given yesterday's adventures.

Like the day I'd scrambled to get ready at ten, the bathroom was open, but this time, the other three doors were closed. No one else was up. I took my time getting washed up, thinking of coffee while I applied my makeup. I also noticed that I didn't need the extra foundation for under my eyes; the dark circles were mostly gone.

Dressed in a black tank top and cargo pants, I quietly walked down the hall of closed doors and down the stairs, eyes on the coffee maker in the kitchen. I barely noticed the foot hanging off the couch in the living room.

But I did.

I backtracked a few steps. Yes, that was a foot, with the cuff of a pair of sweatpants at the ankle. But it was all I could see, and I didn't want to go further into the room in case I woke him up.

As I walked back into the kitchen, I realized I shouldn't have been surprised. There were four rooms upstairs including mine, but there were five of us. It was probably Benji, choosing to sleep in the room next to his computers in case anything came up.

But I knew it couldn't be Benji - he had a tendency to snore. Newly made coffee in hand, I went through the other entrance to the kitchen and into the dining room, where I could see who the couch-sleeper was.

It was Brandt.

He was lying on his back, his left hand behind his head, his right hanging down to the floor, fingers just grazing the hardwood. He was far too tall for that couch; the reason why only one foot was sticking off was because he had the other leg bent. His t-shirt rose and fell with his chest as he inhaled and exhaled, deeply and slowly.

Then, his breathing changed, and I saw movement on his face.

I went back into the kitchen and sat down at the table with my coffee, choosing the chair in the corner. My mother had always done that; she said it was something about feng shui. I did it out of habit of scanning rooms, so I could see all the entrances.

After a minute, I heard quiet footsteps padding towards the kitchen. "Oh," Brandt said when he saw me, only a little surprised. He was rubbing the back of his neck. "Morning." His voice was still thick with sleep.

"Hi," I replied quietly. "There's still some coffee left."

He grabbed a mug from the cabinet and finished the pot. "Thanks, Cass." Cass. Not Hill, Cass. Maybe I should start calling him Will. He took the seat to the left of me, which gave him the next best view of the doorways to the kitchen. Again, I wondered about this analyst with field habits. "You're up early."

"Just earlier than I've been up the last few days," I said.

"I take it you're feeling better?"

I nodded. "And I don't like sleeping late."

He chuckled, trying to keep the sound quiet. "I do." He caught my look up at him and interrupted me before I began. "You didn't wake me, by the way. The couch just isn't that comfortable." That's why he was rubbing his neck.

"Aren't there any more beds upstairs?"

He shook his head. "There's a pull-out in Benji's room, but I can't sleep there."

Still feeling guilty, I laughed. "Trust me, Will, I know about the snoring." He didn't notice that I'd called him by his first name. It seemed normal, natural.

"Exactly." He smiled, and his short brown hair was a little ruffled from sleep, only adding to the boyish charm. I saw that the sun was coming from the window at his back, fully aware that if it landed on his face, I wouldn't be able to look away from his eyes. I looked down at my coffee cup. "What's wrong?" he asked.

I had to glance back up. Now, he looked interested; I worried about what he'd seen on my face. "I just feel guilty for having a queen-sized bed while you get stuck on a couch you're too tall for," I said quickly, coming up with something on the spot that was at least true.

He shrugged. "I'm used to the couch." I arched an eyebrow. "Sort of," he conceded with a grin. "Well, either way," he continued, "I gave up the chance of a bedroom when I put you there."

His mouth parted in a small 'o' - I don't think he meant to say that. "You carried me in?"

He nodded, unsure of where to look before finally allowing his eyes to rest on me. "Why?"

"No reason," I lied, thinking of about five reasons. "It's just that I assumed it would have been Ethan."

"Well, Ethan was a little off that day."

I leaned back in my chair, arms crossed. "He's been a bit off every day since, too. If things were his way, I'd be sitting in a plastic ball, or covered in bubble wrap."

"Can you blame him?" he asked softly. He looked like he was about to say something else, but then changed his mind. His tone became light and teasing. "Things haven't exactly been all that smooth lately."

"I'm bad luck," I joked back, and then realized, what with my team betraying me, finding Cana dead, and having to crawl through the ventilation system, it was true. "Thanks for catching me, by the way," I said. "And for not mentioning it to Ethan. Like I said, he isn't too fond of letting me out of his sight as it-"

I was interrupted by beeping. Will and I left our empty coffee mugs on the table and went to the dining room, the source of the noise. I sat down at the chair in front of Benji's array of equipment. Will put his hand on the back of the chair and leaned down to see. "Looks like Bertov landed in Riyadh," he said. He smelled like coffee.

A series of spikes on a flat-line screen caught my attention. "Cibulka's talking." I turned up the volume, doing my best to translate.

"It's probably one of his men calling," he muttered. Honestly, his breath on my ear was more distracting than his comment.

I tried to ignore it, with minor success. "They're talking about a gala tonight, at the mansion where Bertov is staying," I said. I closed my eyes. "He wants to make the deal in person. He says he needs to go through one of Bertov's men, but he'll handle it. He doesn't want anyone else there." Cibulka hung up after that, so I turned the volume back down.

"Bertov must be the next target," he said, still leaning close to me. I only nodded, not curious enough to hear what my voice sounded like. "We need to be there." I nodded again.

"You two having fun playing with my computers?" Both of our heads snapped straight up. Benji was looking at us with raised eyebrows - and the ghost of that stupid smile.

Will stood straight up. "Are Jane and Ethan up yet?" He made his voice urgent, and that managed to change Benji's expression.

"Yeah. Why?"

I pointed to the computers. "We're going to a gala."

* * *

Now I understood why Jane had packed so much makeup.

"You can pretty much always count on there being a ball or a gala or something like that," she said while pulling from the closet three incredible evening gowns. She told me to take my pick from the dresses before me.

Immediately my eyes fell on the red. It was made of satin and had a ruby, shiny tone; not a bold cherry red, but it was still a commanding color. "You have to wear that," I said, pointing. In my mind, I saw how well it would go with her skin. She took it fully out of the dry-cleaning bag and went into the bathroom.

I looked at the purple, entranced by the deep, rich color; the ruches on the bottom, however, I could live without. I wasn't fond of the taffeta material, either. It was stiff and would be difficult to work with if I had to move quickly.

That left the navy blue. I loved the flowing chiffon, in which it would be easier to do pretty much anything than in the taffeta. I held it up to my body. A line of beading started on the upper part of my right rib cage and curved up right at the dip in the sweetheart neckline, rising from there and acting as a strap over the left shoulder. It met with two pieces of fabric from either side of the dress, but those were very thin pieces; there was little coverage on the back. I also noticed the higher fabric and where it could part for my right leg.

"I would have picked that one for you," Jane said, coming back into the bedroom. "It'll go well with your eyes."

In the bathroom, seeing the combination of the navy dress and dark brown eyeshadow, I couldn't deny that. I put on the diamond bangle bracelet and inserted the dangling diamond earrings, then watched as my hair obscured them. I started twisting, pulling, and staying my hair into an up-do with an army of bobby pins, the shorter hairs in the front acting as bangs as they hung down and framed my face.

I smiled at my reflection. Given the choice, I would opt for jeans or sweats on pretty much any day of the week. But honestly, there was nothing like getting all dressed up every once in a while. That, and three days ago, I looked like crap. I liked this much better.

"Too risque?" I asked jokingly as I returned to the room, sticking my leg out of the slit.

Jane picked up her clutch and handed me mine. "Not for seducing a rich guy," she replied with a wicked grin. She led the way out of the room and down the stairs. I'd never realized how tiny they were until I had to go down them in four inch heels. The descent was manageable with my hand on the railing, but it required a little attention. I saw that Jane had her head down too, concentrating on her steps. I let out a little sigh when I reached the bottom.

We entered the living room, where the three men stood in front of the mirror. Ethan and Will were attempting to instruct Benji with his bow tie, which was crooked. "Do I even need it?" Benji moaned, undoing the tie. "I'm not even going to be at the event."

"You need to enter," Ethan said. "So you need a bow tie."

Benji held his head straight while letting Ethan tie it this time. "Why can't you wear a tie to a black tie event?" he complained. Will shrugged, looking into the mirror to handle his own. Not very long after, his bow was nicely tied. "How did you do that?"

I saw Will's reflection grin at Benji, who was scowling. Then his reflection focused on me. The smile fell off his face as he stood up straight and turned.

Benji observed the change on Will's face and tried to see the cause. "Hold still," Ethan commanded, exasperated. "There."

Now that Benji was presentable to the public, he could focus all his a attention on Will's expression. I laughed, trying to lessen the discomfort of the situation as Benji's eyebrows shot up. Will's eyes landed on me, but he said nothing, and it bothered me that I couldn't tell what he was thinking. "I don't know why, but I would have thought Benji could have tied one of those." I was wary of Benji as I walked further into the room, but I couldn't help the goosebumps that went up my arms as I passed Will.

Benji blinked at me a few times, that smile on his face, before saying,"As soon as I get in the electrical room, I'm taking this stupid thing off."

Ethan shook his head. "You need to get out without attracting any attention either."

"How is no bow tie going to attract attention?" Benji cried, throwing his hands up.

"I promise, Benji," Will said, back to being himself. We stood in a circle, and he took a spot between me and Jane. I still had goosebumps. "You can burn it when we get back."

"And only after we get back, so here's the plan," Ethan started. "We go in separately. Benji goes first, and sets up in the electrical room. Once he has eyes and ears, Brandt and Cass enter, followed by me and Jane. Jane, you handle Bertov's second and sneak this into his drink." He pointed to the picture of the man that Benji had printed, then held up a little packet of powder, which Jane took and slipped into her clutch. Then he took from the coffee table a hair pin and gave it to me. For lack of a better place to put it, I added it to the collection of bobby pins in my hair. "Cass, you take Bertov with that. Brandt and I will approach Cibulka as his representatives, because Bertov doesn't know it's going to happen. Then we get out of there as fast as we can. Understand?"

My nod was accompanied by four others, though I did have one thought: "Cars?"

Benji chuckled. "No worries, Love. I've got that covered."

* * *

**Hehe. Meddling Benji and his bow ties and his cars. I honestly don't know if he can tie a bow tie, and I would figure he could, but I kinda liked the idea. By the way, Cass's dress actually exists, and I have the link in my profile for anyone that wants to see.**


	9. Life of the Party

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters**

* * *

Chapter 9: Life of the Party

"I'm still a little confused as to where Benji got cars like this," I said. I sat in the passenger seat while Brandt drove the foreign sports car to the mansion. I thought that might be a little flashy, but as we grew closer to the building, I realized that our silver car was far less conspicuous than the lime green and cherry red vehicles ahead of us.

"I've found it's less confusing to just not ask questions," Will said.

Benji's voice came over our ear pieces. "A magician does not reveal his tricks. And by the way, I'm in with the electric."

We pulled up to the front of the mansion. "And the bow?" Will asked as he put the car in park.

"Yes, I still have the damn bow on."

I smiled and checked the side-view mirrors before stepping out of the car. Will handed the keys to the chauffeur while the attendant offered me his hand. I was barely on both feet before Will was at my side, taking my arm. We started the ascent up the stairs past the large white columns and into the mansion.

Once inside, we went down the wide stairs, covered in a maroon carpet. They were no where as steep as the ones at the safe house, so I was able to focus on the guests. "We're in," I said, starting to search while we were still up high.

We quickly reached the bottom step and the floor where everyone else stood talking, drinks in their hands. I kept my hand on his arm as we strolled through, scouting the guests.

A few minutes later, I glanced up to the entrance and saw Jane and Ethan at the top step. "Any luck?" Ethan asked while they walked down.

"We went around the whole room," Will said. "No sign of Bertov."

"Benji?" Jane asked.

"Nothing on the cameras," he replied. "Why don't you just relax for a while then?"

I saw Ethan pause at the bottom of the stairs. "Was that supposed to be a joke?" Then he moved his hand, as if to hold it up. "Never mind. Don't answer that. We'll stay on opposite sides of the room. Just keep a clear view of the entrance."

Jane and Ethan started over to the right side of the room, so Will and I turned in our rounds and took the left. We stood by a thick white pillar, him leaning against it, facing both me and the entrance. He glanced up at the top of the steps occasionally, but then returned to looking at the massive crowd.

"Analyzing anyone in particular?" I asked for conversation after a few minutes of nothing but idle chatter from Jane and Ethan, which I couldn't make out anyway.

He shrugged. "Mostly business tycoons and philanthropists. You know, money people."

"How'd we manage to get in here?" I joked.

He looked down at his suit and bow tie. "I thought I was passing."

"Yeah, you clean up nice," I admitted.

A smile graced his lips, just pulling them up at the corners. He dropped his voice. "You too."

"Hey, I've got Bertov on camera," Benji said suddenly. "He's coming down one of the hallways, and he has his assistant guy with him."

Will and I both straightened up, returning our attention to the entrance. "Got him," Will said. His eyes followed the two men down the stairs. "They're going to the bar."

"That's where you two need to be," Ethan reminded me and Jane.

Will nodded and moved so I could pass him. I glanced across the room and saw Jane moving towards the bar, the same way I was. We approached the large, circular slab of granite countertop which had ten bartenders stationed around it. I let Jane go first.

She walked by just as Bertov's second stuck out the hand holding his drink. She made a show of knocking into the glass, buy deftly slid out of range of the spilt liquid. The man turned to her quickly, eyes wide. "I'm so sorry!" he exclaimed in a heavy accent. I didn't catch the rest of the conversation, but it ended with his hand at the small of her back, leading her to another seat at the bar and buying her a drink.

I easily strolled for five seconds before taking the seat next to Bertov. He took another sip of his drink. He was clean shaven and had bushy hair, but he wasn't bad looking - he was just twenty years older than I was.

"This is incredible," I said for conversation after receiving my drink but no attention from the Ukrainian.

Now, he looked at me, obviously surprised that I was speaking to him. But he recovered gracefully and replied in accented English, "Indeed it is." He smiled, but it wasn't a flirtatious smile; it was warm and friendly. "Do you see how the chandeliers reflect off the floor, not as a glare, but rather another source of light? It saves electricity."

He was concerned about conserving electricity. In my mind, I saw how this would end without us interfering: Cibulka would approach him, Bertov would say no, and he would be dead within twenty-four hours. "Ingenious," I said, leaning towards him. "The decorator is excellent."

"Why, thank you," he said. I pretended to be confused. "I helped with the design. I am Leonid Bertov." I allowed him to kiss my hand. "It is a pleasure."

I nodded and we continued talking, him ignoring or just not seeing my flirting. I started to get suspicious that I wasn't getting anywhere. I formed a plan in my mind, and instead of flirting, I put as much effort into subtly hinting at him to drink more, asking for refills or pouring some of my drink into his when he wasn't looking. Not surprisingly, he held his liquor well, but he seemed a little more relaxed after twenty minutes, though it didn't do what I had wanted. There was no leaning in, no suggestive comments, and no hand on my leg - even though I was sitting with the slit in my dress on his side.

I heard laughter and cheers from the other side of the bar and looked over. There was Jane, acting like she was having the time of her life, and Bertov's man was soaking up the attention she was giving him. I watched Bertov as he turned to see as well. I followed his eyes; I was almost positive he wasn't looking at Jane.

My plan needed readjustment. I made up a lame excuse about rejoining my escort and asked him to forgive me. "Nonsense," he said with a wave of his hand. "It was a pleasure speaking with you." He kissed my hand again. "Enjoy your evening." Nothing. Not even a twinge of disappointment at finding I was here with someone else.

"Why are you leaving?" Ethan asked as I stepped away from the bar.

"Problem," I whispered into my ear piece. "I'm not getting anywhere."

"What do you mean?" That was Will.

"He's not into me." Benji snickered quietly, but I heard him. "Shut up, Benji. I have an idea." I heard nothing except for the party going on by Jane. It was muted though; Benji must have turned her ear piece down. "Will, meet me by the pillar to the left of the bar. Make sure you pass Bertov and make eye contact with him. Don't put anything behind it, just make sure he sees you."

"Um," he said, his voice hesitant, "okay."

He began to walk, and did what I told him to. I saw, even after Will stopped looking and joined me at the pillar, Bertov still followed him with his eyes.

"Cass, what are you doing?"

"Following a hunch," I replied, positioning myself and moving Will so that his back was to Bertov and I could see him at the bar over Will's shoulder.

"Want to tell me what you're thinking?" he mumbled.

I nodded, then swallowed and realized my mouth was dry. "Kiss me," I told him while I put my hand on the back of his neck. He didn't question me, just moved his hand to my cheek and bent his head, suprisingly quick for such a request as mine was. But in that split second of anticipation, I saw something flash in his blue eyes.

I was supposed to be looking at Bertov to see his reaction, but I forgot. I forgot Bertov, and Ethan and Jane and Benji, and the hundred or so people around us. I forgot the mission. I forgot to breathe.

Feeling more the thrill of my action than the regret I knew may follow, I pulled away and stared at him. He searched my face, mouth barely parted, eyebrows slightly knit, like he was trying to read my mind. He didn't have to: if he kept looking at me like that, I'd tell him whatever he wanted to hear.

"What kind of hunch is this?" Benji asked loudly.

I remembered - I remembered him, and Ethan, and Jane, and Bertov. I tore my gaze away from Will's wondering blue eyes and glanced over his shoulder at Bertov, who was still looking our way, giving the slightest impression of being saddened. "I think Bertov is gay."

There was a pause. "Are you sure?" Ethan asked.

"Yes," I said. "And it's the best chance we have."

Suddenly, my ear piece filled with laughter. "No fan for you this time, Brandt," Benji sniggered.

"Shut up, Benji," Will said.

I looked up at him. He didn't look too happy with the change in plans, but there was still a light in his eyes as he looked at me. "This one's on you," I said regretfully.

He snorted. "Lucky me."

"You'll need my hair pin." He nodded and stroked my hair, careful not to mess up the style as he gently drew the piece out. I felt goosebumps erupt all along my neck and down my arms. "I'm going to excuse myself, and you're going to stand next to him at the bar." I reached up to kiss him on the cheek and heard him sigh, most likely because he had to go do something he really didn't want to do. I turned away and headed over to where I knew Ethan was while Will strode back to the bar.

I couldn't hear what they were saying as the bar was the noisiest area, but I could tell that I was right; Bertov had started the conversation. After a few minutes, Bertov rose and Will followed, and slowly things became more audible.

"Let me show you my collections. They are near my rooms."

Under his breath, Will mumbled, "Of course they are." I put a hand over my mouth while Benji burst into laughter. Even Ethan's mouth twitched.

"I'm sorry?" Bertov asked.

"I said that's not far," Will covered.

"You go, Loverboy," Benji snickered.

There was some silence, and then a sharp, quick, "Shut up, Benji."

I lost sight of them as they went up the stairs and down a hallway to the right. Before I even looked away, another guest arrived: Cibulka. I nudged Ethan's sleeve.

"How's it going, Jane?" he asked.

"It's kicking in," she said quickly, referring to the powder. She then returned to the boisterous crowd she was with. I saw them seated at an enormous curved couch, Jane as close as she could possibly be to Bertov's man, who looked so drunk, he'd pass out if he stood up.

And that's exactly what he did. It was interesting to watch, as he got to his feet and all the color drained from his face. I gave him props for holding onto his glass even though his legs collapsed beneath him. Jane acted out making a big fuss tending to him while another man loudly shouted something about not being able to hold his liquor and letting him sleep it off.

Now, Cibulka was looking around and moving closer to us. I glanced up at Ethan, and he immediately understood, pretending to be deep in conversation with me. "I'm very sorry," he said as Cibulka came within ear range. He spoke English, but faked a Russian accent. "But I would be happy to deliver the message to Mr. Bertov."

I nodded and excused myself. I glanced back when I heard another voice: Cibulka. "I understand you take messages for Mr. Bertov?" Ethan nodded. "Do you conduct his business as well?"

"Ah," Ethan said. "A proposition?"

The sinister smile that suddenly spread across Cibulka's face raised the goosebumps that had just settled down on my skin. But they were definitely not the same kind that came from being near Will. While Ethan walked off with Cibulka, I stood by a pillar and waited for Will to reappear.

"Everything work out?" Jane had come to my side. I nodded, not taking my eyes away from the stairs. I was suspicious of his analyst front, and I knew there was something else about him. I knew he could take care of himself easily. I knew Bertov wasn't even a threat. But despite all the sound logic in my head, I began to worry.

"So," Benji finally said, and his voice almost made me jump. "How was seducing the rich guy?"

"He really was nice, but he just wouldn't stop talking. I had to take him out in the middle of his explanation on some painting from the eighteenth century." I let out a small sigh of relief upon hearing his voice. Will turned the corner and walked down the stairs, coming to a stop when he reached me and Jane.

"Not as much fun as you thought it would be?" Benji's voice was a little smug.

Will shrugged to himself. "No, but it's a hell of a lot better than sweating through a magnet suit."

* * *

**That scene in Ghost Protocol after Brandt jumps into the fan and says, "next time, I get to seduce the rich guy" is actually where this whole thing came from. I was just going to do this as a one-shot, but then a story kind of developed around it and I couldn't resist.**


	10. Forfeit

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters**

* * *

Chapter 10: Forfeit

I hadn't looked at the clock when I'd finally collapsed in my bed, but I had assumed it was sometime early in the morning. I'd known there was no way I was going to manage to get up at six again, so I didn't feel too badly when I saw the digital clock saying it was just past nine the following morning.

I got dressed and walked out of my room just as Benji blearily entered the bathroom, probably not even seeing me. I went down the stairs, immediately checking to see if Will's foot was sticking off the couch. I had been creating a series of scenes in my mind as to how my next encounter with him would go after what happened at the gala.

But I really didn't have to worry about an awkward conversation, because he wasn't even on the couch. He was in the dining room - or he had been, until he came running out and nearly slammed into me. I got hit with enough muscle to make me lose my balance, but he caught me and stood me back on my feet. "Sorry," he apologized quickly. "Is Ethan up?"

"I don't think so," I replied, flustered and confused.

"Oh, well," he said, and he took off up the stairs, taking them three at a time.

I ran after him. "What happened?" I called over the sound of our feet. When I reached the upstairs landing, Ethan and Jane were already in the hall, and Benji was just opening the bathroom door.

"What's with the stampede?" he asked.

Will ignored him and addressed Ethan. "Cibulka offered a second deal to someone yesterday."

Ethan's eyebrows furrowed. "Who?"

"Robert Edgewood. He's an American, part owner of an oil company. And he said no."

"Are they going after him?" Jane asked.

Will nodded, and looked at me. "Cibulka is sending Reynolds and Baker to handle it. I have a location, but we need to go now."

* * *

I gripped the undersides of the jeep's chair as Ethan flew through the local streets and harshly broke the speed limit on the highway, swerving around people and cars.

"Get in the right lane," Benji said urgently. He had his computer on his lap and was holding on to it, his knuckles white. He didn't know where to look - down at the screen that was giving him directions to Edgewood's hotel, or at the road. It wasn't like he could do anything about the speeding, but like me, he may not have been able to tear his eyes away from Ethan's driving. "Take this exit."

Ethan bothered with neither the brakes nor the blinker as he took the turn off, and continued his hazardous driving through the merge and into the parking lot of the hotel.

"That's them!" I shouted, seeing my former partners out the window. They were just entering the building. Ethan finally slammed the brakes, each of us flying forward and then being slammed back by the seat belts.

"I got Edgewood," Benji said, his fingers flying across the keyboard of his laptop. The rest of us jumped out of the jeep, pulling our guns out. The slamming of the doors made Reynolds and Baker turn around, and by that time, we were in full charge after them.

Their eyes met mine, and I saw the briefest flash of astonishment before they turned and bolted through the hotel entrance. Feeling an unexpected sense of satisfaction, I pushed myself to run faster. "You two take the back!" Ethan commanded.

I didn't know who he was yelling at, but I changed my direction and heard pounding feet behind me, too heavy to be Jane's. Will came up beside me as we ran across the well-manicured lawn and to the back of the building. The pavement at the front entrance wrapped around the back and separated, branching off to an employee parking lot or sloping down under the hotel into a parking garage for guests.

Will and I grabbed onto the wall of the building to help us in our full-speed turn, and I nearly stumbled going down. I caught myself, and looked up when I heard tires screeching. Coming at us was a black sedan with tinted windows. One window, though, was open, and I couldn't tell if it was Reynolds or Baker, but I could see the nozzle of a gun.

Coming out of my stumble, I wasn't running as fast as Will, who grabbed my arm and yanked me around the nearest thick cement upright just as shots rang out. We remained there, breathing heavily, until the car broke through the measly barrier and revved up the incline.

"Come on," Will said, moving his grip on my arm down to my hand and pulling me up. I knew we wouldn't catch them on foot and began to scout for a car to hot-wire, but Will seemed to be a few steps ahead of me.

He handed me the spare helmet, one already on his head, and straddled the motorbike. "You know how to drive this thing?" I asked, mounting it behind him.

He knocked back the kickstand with his heel and turned it on. "Let's find out," he called over the sound of the engine. It surged forward, and I wrapped my arms around his waist as we blew past the broken barrier and out of the garage.

"There!" I shouted, but my voice was drowned out by the bike, so I pointed instead at the black sedan that just pulled out of the hotel. He nodded and floored it, forcing me to rewrap my second arm around him.

It turned out he could drive a motorbike, but that wasn't what I focused my attention on as we flew down the main road, taking the exit back onto the highway, where we'd just seen the black car go.

We slingshotted off the exit ramp and swerved into the left lane, ignoring the car horns behind us while we chased down my former team. They had a head start on us, but the bike was faster; soon, we'd pulled up beside them. And then the window rolled down.

Baker had to concentrate on driving and shooting, but he was doing a decent job. Will bent low over the handle bars, and I pressed myself against his back, hearing the bullets whizzing by us. Will laid off the accelerator, moving back and out of range of the gun, sticking to the car's blind spot.

I tightened my left arm's hold around Will and took a few shots at the sedan. I broke the side view mirror, then moved on to shooting at the front tire. I only got two shots - one hit the hub cap and the other the pavement - before a force knocked me, Will, and the bike forward. My third shot went wide, hitting the car door, while Will only just managed to get the bike back under control.

I glanced behind me to see a dump truck and I cursed under my breath. We could take the sedan, but a motorbike stood no chance against a dump truck - especially when that dump truck was trying to run the motorbike off the road. It didn't matter that the driver didn't have a gun; his size had already won him the battle.

The truck moved forward again, squeezing itself between us and the black car, pressing us against the guard rail. If it swerved into us, we would be dead. I grabbed Will's right arm, careful with the gun in my hand. We both knew this would end badly if we took on the dump truck, and there were too many cars on the highway to maneuver to the other side before we reached the upcoming V in the road.

Will sped up and we zoomed down the left branch, leaving the black sedan and the dump truck to take the right, going in two completely different directions, them towards the east and us back to Riyadh. Finally, we began to slow down once on the local roads again, and I realized we were a short walk from the apartment building that held the room of my old safe house; it was down the next alley. I took my hand off his arm, feeling something strange now that I had my senses back and my heart wasn't racing as quickly as it had when we were facing the dump truck.

On my hand was a wet, sticky, red smear. I looked to where my hand had been: blood flowed freely down Will's arm to his elbow, and there was an enormous stain on the sleeve of his t-shirt, which was ripped. I tapped his other shoulder. "Pull over!" I shouted, just loud enough for him to hear now that we slowed down.

Before he'd even turned off the bike, I had dismounted, ripping off my helmet and his. "What?" he asked, booting the kickstand down. His face didn't have it's usual color, not looking horrible, but much more ashen than normal. He caught sight of my hand, the one smeared with blood. "Are you hurt?"

"No!" I yelled, because it was obvious to me, but he looked taken aback. I pointed at his upper right arm, which was still bleeding freely. How did he not feel it?

He looked. "Huh." Huh? That was it? He didn't even sound surprised - mildly impressed, but not at all surprised. "So that's what that was."

My eyebrows shot as high up on my forehead as they could go. "What?"

"I felt a sting in the parking garage."

I didn't lower my eyebrows; I physically could not lower them. "And you didn't think to check?"

"We were kind of in a hurry." He shrugged with his good arm. "So are we going?"

"Going?"

"Back to the house?" He said it more like a question. "To meet up with everyone else?"

I shook my head and pulled his good arm. "We're right by my old safe house. We'll go there instead." I didn't give him a chance to argue as I pulled my phone out and turned down the alley.

"Cass," Ethan breathed with relief. "Are you okay? You're with Brandt, right?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I said, realizing that I was suddenly supporting some of Will's weight; he'd lost enough blood to make him a little wobbly, and his adrenaline was starting to wear off. "But a bullet grazed Will." I opened the door to the building and helped him up the stairs.

"Where are you?"

I reached the door to the apartment and found it was locked. Will propped himself unsteadily against the wall while I retrieved my bobby pin and began to pick the lock, holding the phone to my ear with my shoulder. "We're at my old safe house."

There was a pause, in which time I felt the lock give and opened the door. "Will you be okay there?" Ethan didn't sound too pleased.

I instructed for Will to sit in the recliner while I locked the door and went to collect the first aid kit from the bathroom. "Probably. He just really needs to get cleaned up."

"Fine. I'm guessing you lost them?"

"A dump truck tried to run us off the road. We didn't really have a choice."

"All right." In my mind's eye, I saw him pacing and pinching the bridge of his nose. "They have Edgewood, and Cibulka called and wants to speed up the meeting because of what happened. Just be careful and get back here soon."

I came back to the main room, where Will was sitting in the chair, his face scrunched in pain now that his adrenaline had worn off. "I'll do my best."

* * *

**Wow. Can't believe we're already at chapter 10. Only four more to go! I've actually had this story done for a while and I've been editing it as I've been posting, so that's why the uploads have been so quick. probably one more chapter today and the last three to finish it up tomorrow.**


	11. Moments of Truth

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters**

* * *

Chapter 11: Moments of Truth

"We could have gone back to the house, you know." He sat in the recliner without the footrest up, and I had moved the wooden desk chair to sit and handle the blood flow, which was almost staunched. With one hand I kept gauze against the gash, and I used the other to wipe the blood that stretched to his elbow. I continued my work, but looked up at him, my eyes involuntarily hesitating for barely half a second on his lips before reaching his eyes. "What?" he asked.

I returned my attention to his arm. "It's a thirty minute drive."

"So?"

"Really, Will?" I asked, more amused that irritated with my patient's good humor. "All we had was a motorbike, and as soon as your adrenaline wore off and you passed out, we would have a problem. Or rather, _I_ would have a problem."

He gestured to himself with his left arm. "I'm okay."

"Sitting down, maybe," I replied as I grabbed another piece of gauze from the first aide kit. "Going seventy down the highway on a motorbike, not so much. I think you've had enough fun for one day." He held up his left hand, accepting defeat. "Besides," I added, getting to my feet and stretching my tank top in front of me for him to see. "You bled all over me, and I have a spare change of clothes here. I'll be back in a minute."

"Can I do anything?" he asked, looking around the apartment.

I took a few more pieces of gauze and put them in his left hand. "Apply steady pressure and don't move." He looked at me, eyebrows low, face unamused, obviously displeased by his newest task. I smiled at his expression.

"I was hoping for something like looking for bugs around the room," he said, raising his voice to reach me through the closed door of my room as I stripped my stained tank top and pulled on a clean one from my duffle bag.

"Reynolds and Baker know me," I called. "My cardinal rule is that once a safe house is unsafe, you don't go back to it." I opened the door and returned to the room, taking the gauze away from Will and holding it against his wound myself. "They wouldn't expect me to come back."

He blinked at me a few times. "That's your cardinal rule?"

"Well, that, and don't drink the water, but I thought this one fit the situation better," I replied, keeping my face straight. "Why? What's yours?"

"Well, I've always had this thing about staying away from bullets." He grinned to let me know it was a joke, but I felt a twinge of guilt.

"You said this was from the parking garage?" I asked.

He nodded. "That's when I felt the sting."

"After you pulled me behind the upright?"

Again, he nodded, and looked at me apologetically. "Sorry about that. It was more of a yank. Is your arm okay?"

"Is my arm okay?" I repeated. "Will, if you hadn't pulled me out of the way, I'd probably be dead right now." He didn't say anything, just searched my face, his blue eyes soft but intensely holding my gaze. I made a conscious effort not to glance at his lips. The next time I spoke, my voice was a lot softer than I thought it would be. "Thank you for saving my life."

I tore my eyes away from his and stared at his wound as intently as if I were trying to heal it with my mind. "Sorry you got hit," I added, seeing the blood flow had finally stopped. I threw the gauze into the nearby garbage and pulled out an alcohol pad. Will hissed quietly as I dabbed the gash. "Sorry about that too," I mumbled, beginning to wrap the bandage around his bicep.

"Been worse before," he said. "Having the actual bullet in hurts more."

"You've been shot before?"

"Only once," he defended himself.

I knew I'd been right. "I thought you were just an analyst." I chanced a glance up at his face. He looked surprised by my comment, but then recovered with a half-grin that was a little rueful, but mostly attractive and intriguing.

"You caught me," he said. "I was a field agent before I was an analyst." I looked at him expectantly, and he laughed; he knew he couldn't just leave it there. "I was in charge of a protection detail in Croatia, shadowing a married couple the agency thought were valuable assets. About a week in, we got word that a Serbian hit squad was targeting them. I wanted to warn them somehow, but..." He trailed off.

"Orders," I said quietly.

He nodded. "So I didn't. A few days later, the husband went out for a run. I tailed him and left a couple of men behind for the wife. When I got back, my men were out cold and the wife was gone."

I leaned in, listening to his words but noticing how his eyes took on a glazed, haunted look as he stared in front of him. "They found her remains two days later."

"I'm so sorry," I mumbled, feeling guilty that I'd asked about it.

"I was too," he said. "And I couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't fail like that again. So I switched."

I wanted to ask about the husband, but I kept my mouth closed. He must have seen the look on my face when he looked at me, though. "I lived with that guilt for years, until I found the husband a couple months ago."

"Will," I said, gently putting my hand on his forearm. "You don't have to tell me."

"It's okay, really," he said, and continued, "I actually didn't find him. The secretary introduced me to him: Ethan Hunt."

I felt every possible confused emotion just then, and words came tumbling out of my mouth, words I needed him to know. "Oh, no, Will -"

He interrupted me. "I know, how did I possibly wind up back in the field, and on Ethan's team? I really didn't have much of a choice after the IMF was disavowed, and after he told me something that made me stay."

I picked up from where he'd cut me off: "She's alive."

His mouth parted and his eyebrows knit together, crinkling his forehead. "Yeah. How'd you know?"

"I know Ethan," I said. "There were stories about her leaving him, which would never happen. I confronted him, but he dodged my questions, and the next thing I knew, there were a lot of dead Serbians. I pieced it together and concluded that she was dead. That was the same day I saw her in Seattle."

He paused. "Was that what you were going to say?"

"Before you interrupted me just now?" I asked. He nodded. "Of course. I wasn't going to let you live with that another second."

He smiled, warm and sincere. "Thank you."

I pretended to check his gash, which was fine. "I'm glad you're not an analyst anymore. It's helpful, but I think you're more suited to be in the field."

"Me too." His voice sounded unusually close.

I leaned as far back in my chair as I could, feeling suffocated suddenly. "And that's why you're here now, handling this situation," I said lightly.

"Yeah," he replied, awkwardly scratching behind his ear. "There's actually a funny story to that, and it may have gotten overlooked, what with everything going on."

I risked looking up at him. "What does that mean?"

"Well, you see..." He wasn't flustered, but appeared to be looking for the right words. Finally he said bluntly, "We're technically not supposed to be here."

"I thought you said Brassel showed you that file."

"He did," Will nodded. "But he also told us that the president didn't clear the mission. He was still deciding. We haven't needed to, but if we did, we wouldn't be able to call for back up."

"They hadn't decided on whether or not to come get me out?" Will nodded. I folded my arms, insulted. "I'd be dead by now."

"And that's why we're here," Will said. "The mission was you. And to take down the seller, but mostly you." He cleared his throat suddenly and continued, "They just didn't know how to go about it. For something like this, they'd need the best. But the best is Ethan, and given his track record with the Serbians..."

"And his relationship to me," I said resentfully. "And the last time one of his proteges was taken." My mind drifted to Lindsey, whom I had only met once before her death.

"Exactly." Will leaned back in the recliner. "But, who's to say Ethan wouldn't have gone rogue anyway? He'd gladly sit in a cell if it meant taking down the guys that killed you." There was a moment of silence before he added, "We all would."

'We all' included him. "But you wouldn't have even known me," I reminded him.

He opened his mouth just as my phone rang, but I managed to read his lips: "My loss."

"Yeah?" I answered the phone, looking at Will, who was looking down.

"How's Brandt?" Ethan asked.

Will may have heard his name over the phone, or sensed my stare, because he looked up. "He's okay," I replied.

"Can he move yet?"

I wasn't sure about that; all the color had returned to his face, but that didn't mean he would be okay when he stood up. "Why?"

"Cibulka called me again. Remember I told you he wanted to go faster because of our ambush?"

"Yeah?"

"He's moved it to this evening, on one of his oil tankers at Ras Tanura."

I checked my watch; it was just past noon. "Ethan, that's almost a five hour drive!" Will, sensing my tension, rose from the recliner. I practically hurdled my chair to be at his side, but he stood steadily, his color remaining.

"I know," Ethan said. "But we have everything set up, and we're heading to you guys. We'll be there in twenty minutes."

I hung up and started moving around the apartment, opening the desk drawers until I found my spare gun. "They'll be here in twenty minutes," I recounted to Will.

"Yeah, I heard everything," he said, watching as I ran around the apartment, pulling my weapons from their hiding places. I looked up and tossed him a gun, which he caught with his left hand. "Ambidextrous?" I asked.

He gently rolled his injured right arm, then tucked the weapon in his waistband. "Natural lefty."

I pulled out a knife from beneath the carpet and tucked it into my boot. "That's helpful."

"You have a lot of weapons," he noted objectively.

"A whole lot of good they did for me when I got taken," I said ruefully.

"I'm guessing Baker and Reynolds didn't know they were...everywhere."

Now, I grinned. "Nope."

* * *

**Ras Tanura is a real place, on the east coast of Saudi Arabia. You can google it if you want a geographic idea. **


	12. Heels Over Head

**The beginning of the end! Last three chapters! This one is probably my personal favorite - enjoy!**

**Not sure why I still feel the need to put this, but...**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters**

* * *

Chapter 12: Heels over Head

Twenty minutes later, Will and I stood outside in the street, on the lookout for the jeep, which pulled over just long enough for us to hop in the back before speeding off again.

"You two kids have fun?" Benji asked from the passenger seat. I couldn't see his face, but I could tell he was grinning.

Shut up, Benji, I thought. "What's the plan, Ethan?"

"Benji will stay in the jeep with the computers for the money transfer, keeping a safe distance from the oil tanker. There's a chance they might be keeping Edgewood on board, below deck, and that's where you and Will come in. As soon as you find him, get out. If you don't find him before we finish, get out." He gave me a meaningful, sober look and didn't continue until I nodded my understanding.

"Jane and I will approach Cibulka and make the deal. We overheard him talking on the phone earlier in his office, and he sent Reynolds and Baker off on another job. Then, he'll want to go back with us to Bertov's, and we'll take him down on the way."

I nodded again, seeing a variety of scenarios in which everything went wrong.

* * *

"If there was ever a shot of getting on that thing," I said, crouching beside Will at the docks, "this was it." Jane and Ethan were successfully distracting Cibulka, who was being tailed by his guards. At this point, there was no danger of being caught if we made a run for it.

He nodded, accepting the fact as I did, and we sprinted up the ramp and onto the ship, which was small for an oil tanker, as it carried refined instead of crude oil. We stayed low, hurrying to the bridge and up a set of stairs on the side, going all the way to the top. I sincerely hoped we didn't find any guards patrolling; I did not feel comfortable with a firearm on an oil tanker.

"Observation deck," Will said. "Nothing there."

We turned and went back down the steps to where we'd started. "Cargo control room's clear, too," I said, looking through the window. We continued to the center of the bridge, where there was a door that I assumed led down to the engine room.

Once down the stairs, we were on a landing that wrapped around the square area. "Whoa," I muttered, staring at the three floors of pipes, valves, nozzles, and shafts.

"Yeah," Will agreed. The only sound was that of us on the metal stairways as we ran up and down them, following where they led around the expanse. It took a full minute for us to hurriedly case all three levels, looking behind every holding tank and machine as well as in storage closets.

I nodded to the final door on the bottom floor. "Engine control room?" Will nodded and went inside, ignoring the 'authorized personnel only' sign. Every inch of the room was covered with wires and computers. I checked the storage closet while Will opened the electrical cabinets.

"I've got nothing," I said. I pushed my finger to my ear piece. "Edgewood isn't on board."

"Are you sure?" Benji asked.

I nodded, even though he couldn't see me. "Yeah. We cased every spot below deck."

"Okay." I heard him clicking on the keyboard. "Ethan and Jane are wrapping up."

"We should get out of here," I said to Will, but he didn't pay attention; it was him I'd heard typing on a keyboard, not Benji. "Will?"

"Cibulka was hiding his laptop down here," he said, not looking away from the screen. I looked over his shoulder at the document he was scrolling through. At the top was an icon, a three-dimensional black circle with a ring around it. Written on the ring in silver lettering was the word ARGUS.

I pointed to it. "What's that?"

"A building further inland, in the city," he said absentmindedly. He continued to scroll. "Cass, this is a list of his buyers. They're all IMF suspects."

"This could take them all down," I said, catching on. I looked up and down the line of desks, and lunged for the first flash drive I saw. I jammed it in the USB port. "How much time do we have, Benji?"

"Not long, probably-" He cut himself off, then said, "Get out now. Reynolds and Baker just pulled up."

"What?" I exclaimed. "I thought they were supposed to be doing something else for Cibulka." Benji stopped talking to me, and Will and I shared terrified looks. We only had a few moments before they recognized Ethan and Jane and the whole thing fell apart.

"Get out now!" Ethan's voice bellowed in my ear.

Will looked at the laptop anxiously. "Go," he told me.

I pulled my gun out. "Yeah, right."

He didn't bother to repeat himself; he just waited until the download was complete and pulled the drive out of the slot. "Go, go!" he commanded again, more urgently, pushing me forward. We pounded up the rattling stairs and burst through the door to the deck.

I angled my body to the right, towards the ramp that led back down to the docks. The only problem was the bullets coming from that direction. Will and I fired back from behind the bridge, and there were noticeably fewer gun shots coming at us after that. But we were trapped behind the bridge, blocked from getting off the ship, and reinforcements for them were probably coming. We took turns sneaking around the corner to take a few shots.

"Someone got the pipes," I commented after scanning the chaos and seeing the bullet holes. Gasoline had already started to spread in a puddle. I dropped the empty cartridge from my gun and inserted a new one.

"I think I can make that work," Will muttered, obviously thinking.

"You have an idea?" I asked hopefully.

He nodded. "I need your second gun."

I pulled it out from the strap around my thigh. "What's your plan?"

He suddenly put his hand on my face, cupping my cheek. "Do you trust me?" My mouth parted in surprise. It wasn't a normal question; his tone was urgent, and his blue eyes searched mine with a strange sense of desperation.

He was frightening me, but I wouldn't lie to him. "Of course."

His face broke into a smile, but it wasn't quite that boyish smile I loved. This one was mature and filled with an understanding of something that I didn't have. "Here."

I looked down at the flash drive he pushed into my hands. "Will, why-" I gasped as he picked me up the same way he'd caught me when I fell from the ceiling, one arm behind my back, the other under my kneecaps. "WILL, PUT ME DOWN!" I screamed, starting to thrash.

He held me tightly, which I probably would have enjoyed in any other situation but this one. "I told you, Cass, you're the mission. Now swim."

He threw me over the railing.

This fall was much different than the first one at the tower: the feeling of weightlessness lasted exponentially longer, and this drop hadn't been my decision. On top of that, Will wasn't there to catch me below - which was probably a good thing, because in my few seconds of free-falling, I decided that it would be better for his health if he stayed far away from me.

I was surprised, then terrified, but those feelings were nothing compared to the anger that started to build with every diminishing foot between me and the blue expanse below. By the time I crashed through the water, I was somewhere around seething; when I broke the surface, I was absolutely livid.

I could hear bullets firing on board as I wiped water from my face. "Oh, no," I said to myself through clenched teeth as I began to swim. "If anyone is killing William Brandt today, it's going to be me."

Once at the dock, Benji fished me out, but a shout caught my attention: "ETHAN, GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!" That was Will.

I stood and started a mad dash back to the ramp of the tanker - which I couldn't even see from all the way over here - but arms wrapped around my waist before I'd even gone two steps. "Let go of me, Benji," I said, my voice low and dangerous. He was surprisingly strong.

"He bought us time, Cass!"

I stopped struggling and whirled around to see his somber face as his words sunk in. My anger began to dissipate, and my stomach twisted into a knot.

Bought.

Past tense.

The oil in the pipes had no oxygen, but the oil that leaked onto the deck had an endless supply around it. All Will needed was one good shot, maybe two, and the whole thing would catch fire.

I turned around just in time to see.

The explosion threw us to the ground, even though it was almost one hundred feet above us on the ship deck. I rolled onto my back, feeling the incredible heat on my face, the air suddenly too thick to inhale. I began to cough, but I didn't look away from the random chunks of metal that were flying into the water. I lost sight of them as an enormous billow of black smoke engulfed the entire ship.

Benji pulled me to my feet and pushed me into the jeep, which Jane had just thrown open the door of and Ethan was now charging towards. Reynolds and Baker, covered with soot, rounded the ship and began shooting while sprinting to a black SUV that Cibulka and two other armed men had just entered.

"They're getting away," Benji warned.

As Ethan turned on the car and floored the accelerator, I looked down at the drive in my hand. I felt disgusted by the little piece of equipment and shoved it into my pocket. It wasn't worth it. I felt a burning behind my eyes.

I shook my head to myself, clenching my fists and digging my fingernails into my palm, leaving deep crescent shapes. No; I could cry and scream and shout about it after it was all over. But not now. Because right now, we were chasing Cibulka, Reynolds, and Baker, and as far as I was concerned, they were the reason Will wasn't sitting next to me.

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***GASP* this one was exciting! (I hope - feel free to let me know what you think!)**


	13. In a Heartbeat

**Second to last chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters.**

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Chapter 13: In a Heartbeat

"I have computers back there!" Benji shouted from the passenger seat, indicating the trunk of the car, where there were a number of laptops.

"Deal with it." Ethan swerved back into the right lane to catch up to Cibulka's car. The equipment shifted again. Benji winced. "Where the hell are they going?"

"There!" I shouted, pointed between the two front seats to a building. It was far ahead of us, but I could see the glowing logo: ARGUS. I reached back and rescued one of Benji's computers. "Can you get in?" I asked, handing him the laptop.

He nodded and booted up the computer. "I just need to be in range," he said. We were all looking up at the approaching building, but he sat with his fingers hovering over the keyboard, intently looking at the screen. When we saw the parking lot, the laptop beeped, and Benji typed furiously.

The spaces were empty, but right in front of the entrance sat the idling SUV, its doors thrown wide open. Ethan slammed the brakes and spun the wheel, fishtailing the jeep to get it into the parking lot. Computers crashed together in the back. Benji let out a low moan for his poor equipment, but kept working.

"Cibulka and two men went up, and Baker and Reynolds went down," he said hurriedly as the jeep jerked to a halt. "I've got Edgewood in the basement."

"That's probably where Baker and Reynolds are going," Ethan said. "Benji, take the handheld tracker and find Cibulka. Cass, come with me."

We stormed into the building, ripping open the doors and hurdling the turnstiles, bolting through the lobby to the stairs and ignoring the elevator. In the stair well, Jane and Benji went up while Ethan and I started down for the basement. "Not this one, keep going," I heard Benji say from above us. I glanced up; there were a lot of floors in this building.

And apparently - something Benji forgot to mention - there were a lot of basements. We plowed through the door labelled B1 and scanned the perimeter of the concrete space, Ethan going left while I took the right, pulling open storage closets and checking behind boxes. "Not here," he said, and we returned to the stairwell, going down the next flight to reach B2. Again, there was nothing.

We had no luck in B3 until we heard loud movements and shouts from the stairwell. Ignoring the rest of the basement level, we sprinted back and kept to the wall inside the shaft as we ran up, bullets raining down on us.

I peaked out and saw three bodies before another volley forced me back against the wall. "Baker and Reynolds, and they have Edgewood." They must have been in one of the basement floors below us, and it was just lucky timing that was getting them out.

The door to the lobby had just closed when Ethan tore it open. Immediately, he started to fire at Baker, who pulled a bound and gagged Edgewood behind one of the pillars and then down a hallway to the right. Ethan circled around, trying to box him in, but where -

I looked to the receptionist desk and saw Reynolds behind it, his gun pointing at Ethan. I shot as I ran towards him, sliding over the granite top and landing directly in front of him. I caught him off guard and knocked his gun out of his hands, then kicked it to go sliding across the floor, towards the hallway where Ethan and Baker had just disappeared.

After that, I didn't have surprise anymore, and he easily blocked my kicks and punches. "Oh, come on, Cass," he snickered, only slightly out of breath from running up the stairs. "You know hand-to-hand is my specialty."

I did know that, and I knew that he was almost a foot taller than I was and incredibly muscled.

But I also knew that he was the team member who betrayed me, and he was working with Cibulka, and it was on Cibulka's oil tanker that I saw Will for the last time.

So, yeah, I was screwed, but I was pissed too.

My punches didn't have enough force to do any significant damage, so I jabbed, using speed instead of power to hit him wherever I found an opening after he blocked a punch: chest, stomach, ribs, arms, face, anywhere. I could tell he was surprised by my ferocity as I got closer to him and began to use my elbows against his face, getting a few good hits to his jaw and nose. But he caught my right arm and spun me around, my back to his front, and then grabbed my left arm too.

He held my wrists in one giant hand and wrapped the other arm around my neck. I bent my knees and leaned as far forward as I could, bringing his head with me and keeping my feet on the ground. I snapped my head back into his, hearing a crack that I hoped was his nose breaking. I kicked the heel of my boot into his shin, and he loosened his grip enough for me to regain control of my arms and elbow him in the side, breaking completely free of his hold.

I spun back around to face him, fists up, but he wasn't down as long as I thought he would be. There was blood all around his nose, but he wasted no time kicking me in the stomach and sending me stumbling backwards. Before I regained my balance, he launched himself over the desk and ran for his gun. I scrambled to my feet and charged at him, tackling him to the ground before he could move the bullets into the chamber.

Both of our guns clattered to the floor just as I heard shots from down the hallway. I didn't risk taking my eyes off Reynolds, but I was suddenly reminded that I wasn't the only one in the building. He seemed to realize that too, and there was a pause in the fighting, each of us breathing heavily. I could tell he was more annoyed than stunned that I was still standing. His eyes flashed; he was ready to finish this already.

I knocked his punch away, ducked under his fist on the follow-up jab, and moved out of the way of his blow to my stomach, barely in time. He was done with me now, his anger not making him sloppier, but faster and just as strong. He caught my wrist on the one punch I threw, and I barely wiggled out of it. All I could do was dodge and keep him away from the gun until I saw a good opportunity.

He repeated the combination - face, face, stomach - then added a chop to my neck. I dropped low to avoid it and tried to sweep his legs out from under him. He fell, off balance, but grabbed hold of my leg and pulled me down with him. I swung my other leg around to kick him in the face, aiming as best as I could for his nose, preying on that injury.

He gasped in spite of himself, but instead of loosening his hold, he pushed me away. I slid across the tile and pushed myself to my feet at the first chance, but I'd been too slow. Reynolds had crawled across the floor, and though he was on his back, his gun was pointing at me.

I froze, my own gun on the floor, too far away to do me any good. He rose to his feet and grinned, his teeth stained with the blood from his nose. He took a few steps closer to me, and when he stopped, there was a little more than a foot between my thundering heart and the nozzle.

Footsteps pounded down the hallway to the right in a full-out sprint, but it wasn't as nearly as fast as my heart. "CASS!" Ethan shouted.

His voice was drowned out in the middle of my name as three shots rang through the lobby.

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***GASP* READ ON! Last chapter is next!**


	14. Solid Landing

**Last chapter! And, once more: **

**Disclaimer: I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters**

**With that said, READ ON!**

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Chapter 14: Solid Landing

I gasped for air and stiffened, hearing the cracks echoing in my skull.

"CASS!"

Three voices shouting my name and the slamming of the stairwell door jerked me out of my trance. I was barely in control of my limbs, but I still had the common sense to smack Reynolds's gun out of his limp hand. His entire body started to quiver. He looked at me, but he saw nothing as his eyes glazed over. I watched and took a step back as he sank to his knees and fell forward. There were three bloody holes in his back. My head snapped up.

The shooter stood just in front of the turnstiles, his breathing a little heavy. His gun was still pointing at the motionless body before me. There were scorched burn holes in his dripping wet clothing, parts of his hair were singed, and every visible piece of skin was darkened by soot or dribbled with blood. But he was alive.

Ethan, Jane, and Benji slowed when they reached me. Ethan grabbed my shoulder. "Are you okay?"

I nodded, not looking away from Will, who hadn't moved closer. He looked back at me, uncertainty in his eyes. I knew why; I could almost see my face, totally blank.

I experienced every possible feeling on the emotional spectrum in that moment, going through them so fast that I didn't have time to express any of them: Terror at the prospect of being shot, bewilderment when Reynolds fell instead, and then a twisted exhilaration when I want to laugh and cry at the same time - I guess that came when I realized I was alive, even though I should be dead.

And then I saw him. There was a rush of elation, but I couldn't get my feet to move before that euphoria turned to anger, which quickly built itself up to what it had been when he dumped me off the oil tanker.

I cleared my throat and tore my eyes away from Will's. I wasn't sure what I was feeling, and seeing that blue - remembering how he'd looked at me when he asked if I trusted him - wasn't helping me sort it out. I walked over to pick up my gun.

"Where's Edgewood?" Jane asked.

"He's fine. Baker's dead." Ethan nodded at the hallway. "What about Cibulka?"

"His two guys are down," Benji said. "He's cuffed and unconscious upstairs." He sighed and looked guiltily at Ethan. "He killed the computer system, erased everything. I tried to get it back up, but I was too late. We've got nothing on him."

Ethan looked disappointed but said, "We've got Cibulka."

"And this," I said, surprised by the toneless sound of my voice. I pulled the flash drive from my pocket and handed it to Benji.

"What's on it?"

"A list," Will said, "of all of Cibulka's buyers. Most of them are IMF suspects. Cass and I got it on the ship." He'd come forward to join the group, moving slowly, limping just enough to notice. He accepted the hug from Jane, but grunted at the force.

"What happened?" Ethan asked, grasping his forearm in a handshake.

He held up his gun. "I shot the leaked oil, and the explosion took me over the railing."

"How'd you get here?"

"I took Reynolds's and Baker's car."

"In that case," Benji said, clapping him on the back, "you're a bit late."

"Sorry," Will said, his voice betraying the pain he felt at Benji's contact. "Got stuck in traffic."

* * *

An hour had passed, and after we'd contacted the IMF, we'd gotten the location of a compartment on a train that would take us to an airstrip with a private plane bound for the United States.

"Great," Ethan had muttered. "This again." It was easy to see why he lacked enthusiasm, running to keep up with the compartment and jumping up for the retinal scan before being allowed in.

Somehow, I managed to be the one to help Will inside. With his arm draped over my shoulder, I helped him to the cot that had been provided on Ethan's request.

"Cass-"

"You're hurt," I said, my voice expressionless and steady. I kept my jaw tightly clenched and refused to look at him. I shouldn't have been as angry as I was. I should have been rejoicing in the fact that he was alive. But I still really wanted to scream at him. "Lie down."

He did as I said, and because everyone else was sitting, I checked him over. I lifted up his dirty, scorched shirt and ignored the six-pack when I saw all the contusions. His stomach was just as much purple, blue, and black as it was regular skin tone.

"Cass," he repeated, attempting to sit up.

"Don't," I commanded, and I realized how quiet the train compartment was. I could feel their eyes on us.

He did anyway, grimacing through the effort. I let his shirt back down and turned around. I walked to the other side of the compartment, but I felt his presence behind me. He touched my arm. "Cass, I'm sorry."

Yanking my arm from him and whirling around, I exploded, "Sorry? You're sorry?" I pushed him, and he closed his eyes momentarily from the pain, but he didn't move. "I trusted you, and you threw me overboard, you asshole!"

"Wow," I heard from the other side of the compartment. "I didn't see that-"

"SHUT UP, BENJI!" I snapped, then returned my attention to Will, too angry to be captivated by his eyes. I couldn't tell what he was thinking anyway, so I continued, "What the hell is wrong with you? I thought you were dead!" I repeatedly hit his chest, wanting to hurt him, but not able to bring myself to do it. I screamed out my anger instead, starting to feel a burning behind my eyes. "And what was that, 'you're the mission' crap? What kind of stupid martyr bullsh -"

I didn't get my next words out because he kissed me, hard, holding my body against his. My hands were pressed against his chest, and I tried to push away, but I was trapped by the muscles of his arms, one wrapping around my middle and the other at the back of my neck. It was forceful, but not uncomfortable.

His lips began to move against mine, no longer as a way to get me to stop talking. I was helpless to do anything but kiss the jerk back. Feeling my body relax, he loosened his hold on me, finally allowing me to pull my hands from his chest. I wrapped them around his neck.

"I hate you," I said when he rested his forehead against mine.

"I know," he mumbled.

He tried to kiss me again, but I moved my head back. "Don't you dare ever even think of doing something like that again."

"Okay."

He smiled, letting me see that boyish, mischievous glint, and I sighed, defeated. He grinned wider then, and titled my chin up. Softer and gentler this time, he kissed me again.

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**Now that it's over, I need to mention that Cass would be played by Julianne Hough (for all who previously read this, yes, I did change it from Scarlett Johansson). I had to change after I saw her in the trailer for Safe Haven, so that's how I imagine Cass to look.**

**Thanks to everyone who followed, favorited (not sure if that's a word), reviewed, and stuck with the story for all 14 chapters. Hope you enjoyed it! Please leave a review and let me know!**


	15. Epilogue

**So this was not part of my original plan, but I just kept reading the last lines and thought that it was kind of an ending but it felt incomplete, so I wrote this between last night and this morning.**

**Disclaimer (yes, again): I do not own Mission: Impossible - Ghost Protocol or any of the affiliated characters.**

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Chapter 15: Epilogue

I told Will to sleep, but he didn't. I told Will to stay on the cot, but he didn't.

"Are you trying to piss me off?" I asked as I grudgingly helped him take a seat next to me on the floor of the train compartment.

He hissed in pain a little while rearranging his position. "That depends. Is it working?"

"I'm really tempted to push you over."

"Please don't," he murmured, the glint in his eyes telling me he knew I would never.

Instead, I said, "You're lucky you at least got a say. I didn't get to appeal when I was thrown off something."

Will chuckled lightly and sighed. "I'm sorry I threw you off the oil tanker."

"I'll forgive you when you go to sleep." He had remained awake for the whole train ride so far, even though he'd been through an explosion and looked like he was about to keel over any second anyway.

"I'll sleep when I'm dead."

"That's not funny," I scolded him.

He heard the changed tone in my voice and managed to wrap an arm around me. He hugged me close to him. "I'll sleep on the plane."

"Better answer," I said, lightly resting my head on his shoulder, still thinking about what he'd said. Away and safe from the chaos - and now that I'd had my fill of screaming at him - I could fully appreciate the fact that he had come back to life.

He'd been dead. He'd been gone, taken by Reynolds and Baker and Cibulka and that explosion. I would never again see those expressive eyes, that wry grin, those flexing muscles as he leaned against a door jam. He'd been dead.

And now he wasn't.

"I'm really glad you're alive," I continued quietly. "I don't think I mentioned that before."

I felt his chuckle vibrate his chest. "Yeah, you were a little busy yelling at me earlier."

"I'm sorry. I was...I was just scared."

"Scared?" he asked, lowering his voice when he heard my sincerity.

"Will, I was terrified." He turned his head to look me in the eyes. "I thought you were dead. You have no idea how that felt."

He nodded, understanding, but replied, "How do you think I felt when I saw Reynolds standing there with his gun pointing at you?"

My mouth parted a little. I hadn't thought of that. I'd been so wrapped up in my own emotional vortex that I hadn't thought of his.

"Not quite the same," he admitted, "but I'd say it's fairly close."

I nodded and leaned as close to him as I could without abusing his injuries. "Thanks for saving my life," I said quietly.

"Any time," he mumbled into my hair. I knew it was the truth.

* * *

Once the train stopped, it took a little longer for me to help Will off the floor.

"I told you to just stay on the cot."

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbled.

I put one of his arms around my shoulders to support his weight, helping him off the train and across the tarmac to the plane. Going up the stairs looked painful and took him time, prompting Benji to comment, "Move it along, old man."

"I'll remind you in a week or two that I'm younger," Will replied conversationally as he collapsed into a seat on the plane.

"That's not fair," Benji grumbled in good humor. "I'm only a technician."

"I'm an analyst."

Benji took his own seat. "Field agent turned analyst turned field agent."

Will shrugged as much as his injuries allowed him too. "Then pick on someone you can take in a fight."

He looked down to focus his attention on buckling his seatbelt as the plane engine roared to life, but I could see the glint in Benji's eyes, the one that expressed the same relief I felt at Will's living presence. It was the same feeling I could see in Jane's smile and Ethan's eye roll.

As promised, now that we were on the plane and in cushier seats, Will leaned his head back and closed his eyes. His face was still drawn taught with pain even as he slept, but at least he was resting now. Of all of his problems, I wasn't worried that he had a concussion; now that he was asleep, I could relax too. I stared out the window into the the sky and the ocean, seeing absolutely nothing except the darkest shade of navy blue. Every minute or so, I looked over to make sure he was still there and asleep. Still there and alive.

My check was interrupted once by Benji, who came up beside me and leaned over to whisper in my ear. "I'd just like it on record that I saw this." He pointed from Will, to me, and back, his sly grin having turned into a smug one.

"Hey, Benji?" I said, whispering back, my voice and face sweet and innocent.

"Yes, Love?"

"Shut up."

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**All right, so not my best work - kind of hastily thrown together, but I think it's a bit more of an ending. ****Reviews are always welcome!**

** If anyone noticed, I took out the bit that was a preview for the sequel - yes, there will definitely be a sequel! I just have to wait for ****(insert unpredictable amount of time here)** until my writer's block lifts. Until that time, if you have any ideas/specific scenes you would like to see in the sequel, go ahead and leave a review or PM me...my creative waters have been depressingly immobile, and I really need some help on this. Anything you want to see - Brandt whump, an ex-boyfriend/girlfriend, car chase, explosion...a girlfriend for Benji? All suggestions are welcome!


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